Chemicals

I stand beneath a grotesquely flourescent light. Everything is bathed in a trashy shade of orange. These two legs are the only things that keep me upright, the givers of my perspective. What if they should collapse?

No matter.

I'm riding on false confidence.

I could tackle the world if this chemical would only trade places with my blood.

Author's Note

I was going to write more, but lost my train of thought. I think it's fairly complete, though.

Reviews

[The Analog Kid]

I would just change it to a "prose poem" category. Funny how we embrace false solutions to our human condition. It's like you realize what the problem is but then circle back and ask for the fix. We can all relate to this.