Who Needs Meth When You’ve Got A Library Card?

I went to the doctor and the doctor said
‘No more ideas in that little old head’
So he whipped out a pen and dashed out a prescription
For artistic elixirs to cure my conniptions

‘Take one dose of novels and one dose of music
A sprinkle of TV (but please don’t abuse it)
A film if you’re feeling extremely put out
And we’ll see if we can’t shake this creative drought.’

I went to the library, fearing no harm, you see
Who could be burned by this book-lending pharmacy?
I filled up with stories both low and respected
And promised to take them all just as directed

They worked like a charm; I soon started to write
The infusions from others had altered my plight
And I knew, was so certain, convinced I was cured
But instead I was simply becoming inured

The block soon returned, like a wall made of granite
I scribbled, I scrabbled, I slobbered in panic
My stories weren’t finished, they weren’t even close
It was then that I started to crank up my dose

You can always get Netflix–it’s over-the-counter
And I watched every show, both the uppers and downers
Binged on comics and novels of all shapes and genres
And poorly penned films stuffed with single entendres

These brought peace from pain, but came with enervation
My inkwell dried up from arthritic stagnation
I lost all my metaphors, mythos, and meter
And the urge to create something new sharply petered

They found me near death, my malnourished frame
Almost fatally OD’d on video games
Then they took me away to this place where I live
With the folk in white coats and the care that they give

They tell me the path to recovery is slow
But they’re oh so impressed with the progress I show
I’m sure very soon they will say I can go
And when I get home, what a party I’ll throw
With musical albums and books by Thoreau
And long, arcing dramas shown on HBO
And podcasts I pump through my car stereo
And indie-devved platformers on Nintendo
And conceptual videos by OKGO
And award-winning movies with Willem Dafoe

This poem will prove just how well I’ve adjusted
You doctors all see now that I can be trusted
I know that I needed this short-term reprieve
But when can I
when can I
when can I leave?