I Know For A Fact That Sickness

Madness Will Push You Anywhere It Wants. It Never Tells You Where You're Going, Or Why. It Tells You It Doesn't Matter. It Persuades You. It Dangles Something Sparkly Before You, Shimmering Like That Water Patch On The Road Up Ahead. You Will Drive Until You Find It, The Treasure, The Thing You Most Desire. You Will Never Find It. Madness May Mock You So Long You Will Die Of The Search. Or It Will Tire Of You, Turn Its Back, Oblivious As You Go Flying. The Car Is Beside You, Smoking, Belly-up, Still Spinning Its Wheels.

Madness Strips You Of Memory And Leaves You Scrabbling Around On The Floor Of Your Brain For The Snatches And Snippets Of What Happened, What Was Said, And When.

Hospitalizations In General Are Blurry. The Days Are The Same, Precisely The Same. Nothing Changes. Life Melts Down To A Simple Progression Of Meals. They Become A Way Of Life Fairly Quickly. You May Welcome This Transition. It May Seem Inevitable To You. You Have Been Removed From The World. It Is All Right, In A Way, Because There Is Nothing So Sure, So Safe, As Routine.

We Know We Need, And So We Acquire And Eat And Eat, Past The Point Of Bodily Fullness, Trying To Sate A Greater Need. Ashamed Of This, We Turn Skeletons Into Goddesses And Look To Them As If They Might Teach Us How To Not-need.

Children Take In More Information Than We'd Like To Believe.