In need of care. I've finally made it to the other side of the office door. Never had that safety anyway, but where is my duress alarm? What is my knockoff time? Sleeping in some man's sweat (my oestrogenated senses tell me so). Is that why I was deprived one night? To dull my senses in a hormonal fog? I'm so glad my meds inspire your crochet. Little blues and oranges I had to beg for. Another reason to disappear (sheer embarrassment). I remember when I (thought I) knew I could stop. Did I always work out of respect in fear of having to pay a debt? Well I'm paying it anyway. From burnt out worker to model patient. Waited til I left the grounds before I took a proper breath. Got let out on bullshit because the truth was I lost my life in there. Begged for everything and given nothing. Treated me like a threat (hospitalised men in dresses are still men). Reduced me to a silhouette. And now I am in need of care.