Pillow Talk My boyfriend hands me some necessary med. I think I’m quite sick. I’ve got a bad flu that’s warping my thinking, that fucks w/ my head, a sickness that makes me wish, I were dead. An illness can plant such an idea inside you. My boyfriend hands me some necessary med: a plain pink pill; a capsule half yellow, half-red; and one other one, two distinct shades of blue. “ That’s warping my thinking. That fucks with my head,” I tell him. I’m pretty sure that’s what I said. He holds out the glass. I know what to do. My boyfriend hands me some necessary med then patiently sits on the side of my bed as I pop the four pills then drink up. My temp is 102. That’s warping my thinking, that fucks w/ my head. There’s a stain on the pillowcase where I’ve bled ‘ though I’m less sure what’s caused this bad bruise. My boyfriend hands me some necessary med that’s warping my thinking. It fucks w/ my head. Drew Pisarra is the author of two poe...
Like the title says.