Pharmacy Arms

It's slow going
These pills have the action of a pistol
*Pop* one
Then *Pop* two
I lose consciousness
Some feeling inside wakes me in the morning
I return with a groggy
          Any news?
          What's the latest?
  Well the thing's a little more agressive than we thought
  Persistent little bugger
           Dandy
           Just give 'er another old 'one and two'
It's a drawn-out process
As you can imagine
With an approach like this

I've fathered hours
Watched them grow up into great big months
And have families of their own
Each day's accounted for
In an enormous forest of tally marks
Calendared in a sort of etched frieze on the wall of my skull
*Pop* *Pop*

I'm outside now
Trees overhead
Taking a walk
In my close-fitting biological
More precisely, neurological
Chateau d'If
Locked in like an atmospheric diver
How I hate this quiet fish bowl

Sometimes I imagine somewhere out there
Must be a man in one of those motion capture suits
Draped in a hundred little inertial sensors
Linking his movements to mine
Guiding my limbs
Controlling my hands and feet
Directing every step
It certainly isn't me
I'm not putting any thought into it

Perhaps, by now, I should have tried another method
Instead of pelting the problem with prescriptions
Like stoning a heretic
Expecting to gradually bury it
Maybe tomorrow
When that feeling inside
Wakes me for the morning's briefing
I'll have a change of heart and say
          Enough 'one and two-ing' this thing to death
          Whether it's months or doses
          I'm beginning to suspect
          This disease can't count worth shit