Bartleby

When the last drink is sipped
When the last smoke is recycled
When the friends leave at the end of the night
And the night creeps closer
The distance between the front door and my bedroom door becomes long
I open and sunflowers rise like branches along the walls of my room
Just like every summer I don’t remember the last time I planted the seed
But, the tears have finally gave them enough life to grow in the midst of October
The bees hover over my body
Laying over me as if I’m their mother
I’m the honey
I’m the sunlight
The sunflowers encompass me
Brushing their pedals over my fair skin
Covering my naked body in their flower beds
I let out the first sigh of relief

In 48 hours, I will finally meet with my psychiatrist. Medication will finally enter these veins. She will ask me what’s the goal on going on benzodiazepines and anti-depressants.
I’ll tell her: I want to live with the sunflowers and bees, doctor. Just let me live with them forever.