There’s a million thoughts in my head
that don’t really have a place
They are all just milling around
in a tumbling, hazardous race.
There are ten thousand ants in my feet
and in every other limb
They cause me to fidget intensely
at the risk of getting too slim.
I guess this medication’s not bad
the dishes really get done
but this ongoing, maddening twitch
is a menace I cannot outrun.
Then of course I awaken at four
after several earlier tries
I just twitch and I turn and I yearn.
This drug steels the sleep from my eyes.
On the plus side I’m quite productive
in the wee hours just before six
I write mails, I rhyme and I fidget
I wish the productiveness sticks.
If it stuck for the rest of the day
I might have a jolly life
yet it leaves before five in the evening
– the rest of the day is pure strife.
Being medicated isn’t fun
but neither is being without.
How I wish to remove this dilemma
and the seething, lingering doubt.
… and the twitches, most of all the twitches.