I think it’s time for me to slip.
Hit the pavement and over emphasize
I need to take a knee
and start praying that I don’t
Cart me off in an ambulance
so I can catch my breath, please.
Maybe I’ll steal a few records
so I can spend a few weeks in
silence, swallowed by an orange jumpsuit
that I won’t mind if I look fat in.
Let my platinum hair fade to a shade
that looks more natural and less
like I care.
Tie me up so I stop trying so damn hard
to please and
hold me hostage in a dark room
where I can sleep off the anxiety.
You won’t get a ransom but I’ll take
the free vacation.