My head has a whole lot to say to me
lately and it does so, quickly, like by a
(more) silent version of pressured speech—
a phrase I just learned from my psychiatrist;
apparently it’s an affliction that I have.
Which, like Diane suggests, is nice to know,
nice to put a name to, but it’s just another
problem to be fixed. Just another malady to
constantly counteract. Another battle to counter
attack. One more thing that stands as impediment
against my getting myself across correctly. And
I don’t have to tell you how much of an obstacle
that can be. Is. Oh, woe is me. I’m hungry.
My head hurts. And nobody knows who I am.
against my getting myself across correctly. And
I don’t have to tell you how much of an obstacle
that can be. Is. Oh, woe is me. I’m hungry.
My head hurts. And nobody knows who I am.
