Nerves light up my arms with no explanation. Only some people can see the lights. On the worst days, the nerves look like pitchforks. When I am performing happiness, they shock me. On those days, I wear long-sleeved shirts and cover my ankles. Depression is experienced. It is the CEO of feeling. All other feelings are direct reports. My depression is IPOing next month. It hopes to raise $100 million so it can expand into my future.

Like all IPOs, it is dream-like and has a tagline that is about bettering society. Agnes liked the horizontal line better than other lines. I like it too

because its weight is distributed so that more depression can hang from it like laundry. The only way to see if my words are poems is if I crush them into lines. I do this so no one can see my insides. I've learned that the words are only poems if, when I flatten them into a line, the meaning remains. In my need to know, I am surrounded by lines. Even a river is no longer water but a series of lines that sounds like a stream.