Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Tuesday morning

2 a.m.

    Some idiot’s car alarm
    has gone off right in front of my house
    two times in five minutes.
    Fate’s evil scheme is foiled:
    I was already up.

    My stomach makes a noise like a milkshake
    being poured down the kitchen sink
    and I can’t tell if it’s food poisoning
    or hypochondria.
    Catalogue everything I’ve eaten in 24 hours.
    Lie on my stomach
    practicing what I’ll say to my boss
    in the morning, when I call in sick.

    Can’t breathe, panic, sit up,
    realize I’m smothering myself
    with the pillow.
    Then I know it’s hypochondria,
    the paranoid part of me
    only close friends get to see.
            Mary telling me over and over
            the magic mushrooms I ate
            are not going to kill me.
            Final goodbye to Andrew
            from the bathroom floor.

    The car alarm goes off again.
    I generally prefer to take my
    four hour naps
    back to back.

9 a.m.

    At work, of course.
    My brain has drown in it’s own cerebral fluid.

    That pot of coffee actually looks good today
    but I’m picky about my recreational drugs.
    Caffeine doesn’t get me high,
    just makes me nervous.


Dorkmaster Flek said...

Well, at least you'll have me to comfort you in the middle of the night soon. :) You know, caffeine will kill you in much lower doses than weed...

Mary said...

Shayla - "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna DIE!!"
Mary - "No you moron, you're just high on shrooms. You can't die from shrooms. You are NOT GOING TO DIE"
Shayla - "Really?... Okay... (five 7 second pause)... I'M GONNA DIIIIIEEEEE!"

Hahaha ohhh sooo classic.

Mary said...

Oops, ignore that 7...