- My Head Fits

My head fits
In a fucking manila folder on her desk.
My head sits
In a metal filing cabinet
   Most of the time.

Patience
Wrapped in a guardrail -
She's dressed for the season.
Rearranging reason
To reassure refills
Of medicated pills.
Prescribed illusions
Of adjectives like acceptance, mellow, and disconnect.

My head exists
In one of four fucking color-coded categories.
My head insists
On forgetting all its own favorite thoughts.

Blind envision
Under the influence of ink blots.
On weak nights he visits himself in hiding,
Infrequently, and others Out.
Fragmented? so.
Rapid fluctuation
Frustration.
Sub line penetration.

My head fits
Consist of inverts and alchemy.
My head persists
Only to resist itself.