I think this is what Xanax is for
I am always a bit too much, I guess. I needed him to sleep at night. I blurt. Too much prose, too many poems, too many favors and falling all over myself and literally into walls sometimes. I think I would do that less if every single time I stopped doing it altogether people did not come running back. There is a power there I don’t want, but can’t seem to escape. What happens to Superman and Spiderman in the end, do they slow down, settle on a simple life at home? Away from kryptonite and tall, tall buildings?
Anyway, the only really plan right now is breathing.