Slow down. You’re picking on me cause I’m mentally ill. No, I just don’t wanna die.

That was a good hoagie. Yeah, primo makes the best. Your old boyfriend looks like a droopy penis.

Do you need to take a lorazepam? Yes, I would like a lorazeDan. When I was 7 years old I very fluidly remember the doctor taking samples of my hair and blood to create a pill that would rebalance me back to when I was normal. They knew I was going to go crazy. It was a government conspiracy. I told this all to a therapist once. She smelled like honeysuckle and vicks vapo rub. Her name was Sandy.

Did you ever notice that plants don’t need to take a piss? They don’t have to crap either of course. But I mean, have you ever really thought about that?

Well I knew, obviously, but not like I know now, you’re right.

I don’t think most landlords will rent to us not because of stigma but because they know what kind of meds we’re on and have figured we would be constantly clogging the toilet. I think you give them too much credit.



I left my cigarettes on that stupid primo hoagie trash can.

Oh babe, we don’t have enough gas to go back…

Babe is a nice pig in a movie, can you please stop calling me Babe!

Sure, ass.

Do you need your buspar?

Yes. Buspar.


Sweet droll for a crappy afternoon.

Pull over and ask that guy if I can bum a cigarette.

You do it, you’re the one who smokes.

Yeah, but you’re a girl so he might give you one. I’ll let you call me babe…

Sorry about that by the way.

If they saw us they’d call us co-dependent. Yeah too bad, we’d leave each other anywhere. Screw it, he’s smoking menthols.

We better get back home anyway, so we can watch the Dr. Phil they have planned for us on daytime TV.

Why do they think disabled people like trash so much?

I think it’s because we’ve been taking their shit for so many years.


Image Credit:averie woodard

Daniel J. Flore III’s poems have appeared in many publications.  His fifth poetry book, WRITTEN IN THE DUST ON THE CEILING FAN, can be found here.