Beach Balls

I’m feeling positively perky,

sky-high. Like someone

turned off the sadness.

My anger, which used to crow

and rage, is uncannily silent.

I think I like this.

But it is synthetic, it is

not me. I can see Aunt

distrusts my jovial mood.

Even my little brother looks flabbergasted

when I waltz to the dinner

table, and eat. I wonder

if these feelings will fade. Because

I do think about addiction.

And I certainly like this lovely

medicated beach ball of a world.


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