Racing thoughts gaining momentum in my head.

Why can’t I just go back to bed?

The swirl of crazy surrounds me.

Like maggots freshly hatched.

How do I make it stop?

How do I harvest the crop?

I am the secret keeper in need of a street sweeper.

To sweep my mind and body of emotion that does not belong to me.

How do I make it stop?

How do I harvest the crop?

A pill you say? Well, screw you. Could you be anymore cliché?

If all it required was a pill, to this day I would be ok.

As for now, the monsters retreated into their hiding places.

I heard their sniveling as they walked away.

When they return, I shall feed them those secrets that I’ve been saving.

Perhaps then, I will be ok.