xanax and coffee

xanax and coffee
xanax and coffee
the gravity pulling's so strong, the hot air holding up the parachute frivolous
but the gravity feels essential, i have so much and paid so little nothing for it
no one knows who marcus nagelberg really is,
at least not yet,
and I hope they don't find out
sitting in a hole, waiting for a rope
but i've got to work my way building footwells up
to better stick my rubber souls
this is not a poem, just thinking calculated, simplified
I do not want to write poetry. I have done it before. But it seems so...socially unacceptable
the mentor would say, "why should you care?" i'd say image is everything.
private, public, it really does matter. he'd say, "do what makes you feel better, and ignore the naysayers." i'd say, "i'm already coping"

i'm over psychotherapy.
i loved the guy to death, and he worked with famous people, I felt so pampered in his cozy little lounge. But benefits died and money felt tight. I paid for a few when I could. When I had all that money. The money didn't matter when I had a lot of it but it means so much when there's less of it and many more options