in the waiting room

Sitting in my doctor's office I find myself reading the childhood development charts for the nth time in the past three years. I have already memorized the areas of the world where I should buy bottled water. I have no interest in testing my sight today and even the plastic model of the female reproductive system fails to hold my attention. I have spent countless hours of my life sitting in this office reading and re-reading the health care propaganda.


Why do I spend so much time in this outdated mauve room? The answer is simple. I am an addict. I am addicted to citalopram - a drug commonly marketed as Celexa. In truth I am no different than the George Street junkie looking for her next hit. However I have a socially acceptable explanation.


It's ok for me to be an addict.


My dealer is my doctor.

a light in the window

something almost syllabicly rhythmic. something out of my head. something. I'm not sure where this came from or what it means but here it is.


a light in the window

Light a candle for all to see

He’s coming

He’s coming

Put it in the window or

He’ll miss us

He’ll miss us

Pass us by without a thought

Forgotten

Forgotten

Light a candle for all to see

He’s coming

Now He’s here.