So you lashed out and they’re forcing you
to see a psychiatrist for the first time.
Stay silent. Anything abnormal in your
past will only foretell a future of crime.
Average people are often celebrated
as thugs. But you’re no longer any kind
of person. You’re a dot-to-dot drawing of
a stick figure to be stuck to a fridge full
of drugs. So stay silent. All your charming
eccentricities will just be dots connected,
and you will never heal, never mature,
never be capable of learning any lesson.
“Only by our needles,” they’ll say, year after
torturous year, “can you ever be corrected.”

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