Under My Covers No One Will Find Me


United States

I lived on a ship for two months;
a mental institution for middle schoolers;

My nervous twitching came back,
but you know it was only because I felt dry.

They put me on Prozac:
Zombies who can’t cry;
Quarters in the brain;
Monsters under my bed.

“It might even squash your appetite a bit,” the Doctor said.

I know why she said that: Placebo Effect.

In 1990 there was this guy who was told he was undergoing heart surgery.
The doctor never performed it though, made him believe he did. A month later he was completely cured. Google it.

I’m not stupid.

But Western Logic sing songs in my head, “You don’t have to feel this way:”

Swallow the white pill.

And then like a switch of a dime,
I met him.
Two similar beings running into each other.

Thank you,
American Spirits.

Thank you,

You brought us together.

(Intimacy in) Africa + many things I cannot say.


Time of our life,
Jack + Jill.

Shhhhhh please don’t tell!

But we fight. We fight all the time and it’s only been four weeks.

(I lo/ve him).

I drink obscene amounts, dance with other men and then
play games:

Queen of the ball: look at me.

“Juego” he says.

“Fuego” I respond.

Light a cigarette.

Pull a drag.

I tug at his heart strings. I can’t help it. I’m evil.
Make him follow you.


I’m peaking, but then a

Satan's Saturday:
I become a Servant to the substance.

Bow down.


“Don’t have another one don’t do it,” I tell myself.

Need to Release;

The calming Madonna in my head looping through my anxiety; a robot programmed to keep me stable.
I light another cigarette.

Pull a drag.

But my diet supplements ran out.
Tony Robbins where are you when I need you?


I wish on every number for emaciation.

Chain smoke.

It’s all wrong.

Have sex.

“Was it good?” he asks.

Take a drag.

A lullaby runs through:

When I was a girl, I learned how to use every part of a man...


But my sanity is weaning. I start malfunctioning and instead of fighting,
I give in.

I look down into the sea and remember what a Professor once told me:

“The ocean is inviting.”

And I respond, “Yes, very inviting.”


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741