There's drugs for this, I'm told.
Trial and error calibrate the dose.
There is no eros, only poisoned darts,
doting potions and their antidotes.
All the syntax of our synapses
has been distilled, boiled down and swallowed
whole, or divided, as circumstance requires.
Trial and error calibrate the dose.
This poem won't pretend to diagnose
treat, prevent, or cure any disease.
Always consult your doctor first before
embarking on a verbal regimen.
Perhaps I ought to pop a pill or two.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to write.
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