“Help me save me.”
She looks at her self in the mirror.
The other side mimicking her minatory stance.
“I can’t. It’s too late for that now.”

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”
She combs her hair. Dresses up. Plops down the antique breakfast table.
Nobody notices the aberrant suitcases under her eyes.
“That’s because”, she tells herself “you choose to become numb.”

“Get me out of this misery.”
She crosses the street with an unblinking stare.
Clueless about the cruel world.
An abnoxious horn amplifies her madness.
“Got to hell you motherfucker!”
I’m not sure if she was referring to the driver or to thyself.

“I don’t understand why.”
She takes in calls for a living.
The voices in her head are idiots looking for stupid solutions in stupid questions.
Sometimes she wonders, “Is ther a call center who has all the answers as to why the universe sucks big time?”