| My first name is a random set of numbers and letters and other alphanumerics | 
| that changes hourly forever | 
| My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a sussurus, | 
| couldn’t just be John Doe or Bingo | 
| My address, a made up language written out in living glyphs lifted from demonic | 
| literature and religious text | 
| Telephone, uncovered by purveyors of the Ouija, then checked against the CBGB | 
| women’s room graffiti | 
| My social, a sudoku | 
| My age is obscure | 
| My 'in-case-of-emergency' is in the daisies chasing birds | 
| Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores, and people who open | 
| doors for the people who open doors | 
| My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo | 
| Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow | 
| Nervous in the service still | 
| I’m burger meat and purple pills, «here» | 
| «Thank you. | 
| We’ll call your name.» | 
| Sure you will | 
| Skipped lunch | 
| I’m shrunk | 
| You pack up all your manias | 
| Sitting in the waiting room | 
| You’re dreaming of Arcadia, you’re feeling like a baby tooth | 
| Awaiting panacea, channeling your inner Beowulf | 
| In Purgatory, just before you pay up to filet yourself and others | 
| In the name of help, coal on a conveyor belt | 
| Into ego death alone, no telephone from Gabriel | 
| I’m half a human combing over Home and Garden stoned | 
| Gold chains over turtlenecks, cigars over cologne | 
| A thousand shitty paintings wrap around a wounded animal | 
| Womb with the Schubert he’s a future human-cannonball | 
| Little fuckers fighting, mother hiding in her Hulu | 
| I’m climbing up the stucco | 
| Let’s get to the seppuku, uh-oh | 
| That pretty penny turn the prickly into Benji | 
| If you save up all your winnings, then you get to count your blessings | 
| I finally crunch the budget up and punch the button | 
| She called my name out and pushed me into an oven | 
| The fuck? | 
| I’m shrunk | 
| She says, «I'm not your enemy» | 
| I said, «That sounds like something that my enemy would say» | 
| Instead of playing off the chemistry she said, «You're being difficult» | 
| I said, «I'm being guarded. | 
| You’re a quarter mil in debt, I get more guidance | 
| from my barber | 
| Look, I’m not good at this, I grew up in a noogie fest | 
| You built your walls up high or say goodbye to all your Cookie Puss | 
| Here’s one, every time my telephone buzzes I see images of hooded riders | 
| setting fire to hundreds.» | 
| She said, «When you start getting all expressive and symbolic, it’s impossible | 
| to actualize an honest diagnostic.» | 
| I said, «When you start getting all exact and algebraic, I’m reminded it’s a | 
| racket, not a rehabilitation, okay? | 
| Agree to disagree as grown-ups from opposing clans | 
| Honoring the push and pull I should have called the Scholomance | 
| Oh well. | 
| Preservation is a doozy | 
| «Will you be needing another appointment?» | 
| «Absolutely» | 
| I’m shrunk |