Swallow, and another pill slides down my throat. A pill so strong it digs and digs, then fills moat that separates me from the world with acid, and acid resistant sharks, boat proof, swimmer proof. So that no one from out there even has a chance of crossing. It’s dark in here where I’m isolated, the pill shuts the blinds and cuts all ties that I ever had. This pill promised to help me focus, and it did, but the focus remains under the lid of my skull. My thoughts run and run, like a river never dried. So focused on what the angry voices say, and my hopeless rebuttal of, “I tried.” I can only focus on what’s inside. The words I read on the bottle lied. It said that the pill may cause drowsiness, but it steals my sleep, locks it up somewhere and keeps it out of reach. But without sleep these waking dreams that I am so diligently focused on are delirious, my problem is growing ever more serious, because each new dose makes it harder to float up where the oxygen is, instead these pills, they weigh me down, giving me a sinking feeling that I may drown. But still I swallow, and another pill slides down.