Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?

Dear. There. Hello. It’s been two weeks without a sip. I give up. Good evening. I was bored. You might say: I was cold in my room in the air conditioning under the pillows. So what. And then: I guess I have the will power of a fat woman in a cupcake shop, I guess I forgot how sweet and delicious a bottle could taste in this warm and lovely July evening. I’m not right. I’m not self-destructive. Pity. Darling: Subtract a preposition and lend me a verb. And, I’m underneath this. See? Crawling? Anyway. Warm regards. Me.

Midnight Coward

These nights, it’s a race against the clock: I pop two Tylenol Cold and Sinus PM, close my eyes under the hot water, read until the words all blur together, and slink from the bath tub into bed. I think I’m depressed, but I might be confusing the sinus pressure with a sad mental break. Occam’s razor says I’m being melodramatic. I think Occam’s full of shit.