Sick of writing the old novel-length book of poetry entirely written on bar napkins.
Sick of the same fucking thoughts in my head when I wake up, over and over again.
Sick of the what-ifs and the whodunits.
Sick of finding the little notes from last year collated haphazardly through all the other paperwork.
Sick of what happens to my stomach when I see a missed call between 1 and 4 AM the previous morning.
Sick of the meaningless parade of morose blog posts.

I would like to get someone removed from my head.
Surgically. I hear it's a fairly simple operation that can be conducted with a standard household icepick.

I'm done.