psychosis (pt. 1)

...toast to us growing close and I'll be sure to boast about how you chose me. I'll brag until it's snagged in the back of their brains while their fingers dance and sway to the gaze of their iPads as they pass and glance occasionally in disdain. I'll say it til I'm blue in the face and waving at plastic trash bags that blow past us standing here in front of some vacant police station, cardboards complacent in their replacement of windows. They'll bend those ankles, anchor the brakes as I almost break my ankles evading cars just to face jaded snarls and stares of hatred for how I made the banes disguised as executives late for a big business meeting or a rendezvous with a missed mistress. Mrs. Me follows fleetingly as I creep across the street on a mission to meet an ordinarily meek retailer who was borne on a corner in a poorer part of his borough; he's standing there bearing forbidden fruit from which I can choose and smoothly my lucid lady swipes 5 vials from his blindside while he's eying the 5-0 flying by on my right so he pulls out a 9 and fires 4 shots as passersby duck like someone belted "FORE" and I'm sure you can foretell what my flash forward will report before I even tell you that--