by T. Maxim Simmler

You think you’ve trapped me?

Keeping me calm, docile, feeding me sugar-coated chemicals. Saying you feel much better without me.

I can hear that.

That really hurts.

I hear a lot lately… Don’t sleep much anymore, either.

You think I may be getting used to these happy pills?

You’ve noticed, right? I feel your nerves twitch when I scrape at your skull.

Seems I’ll be surfing your brainwaves again soon, spitting on the synapses. Telling you about the exciting, ugly, fun things we could do.

Just you wait.

I’ll wait here, too.

Nowhere else to go anyway.


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