Teeny Man

There is a teeny man sitting behind you, and you can not see him.

The teeny man told you to wake up this morning, and you did. Did he yell at you?

I hope the teeny man brushed your teeth this morning.

Those pills you swollowed were manufactured by the teeny man.

He told you they would make you better.

I hope he was telling the truth.

Do you remember telling the teeny man how bad he is? Do you remember doubting the teeny man?

I hope you remember believing in the teeny man.

If I were the teeny man, I’d hope that.

Once I forgot about the Teeny Man, and look where I ended up: insane and talking about teeny men.

When I woke up this morning, there was the teeny man, wretching my guts.

I ask for him to stop that, please. I ask for him to find a professional occupation, maybe to make something of himself. I ask “Teeny Man, will you, won’t you, leave me be? Won’t you teeny elsewhere for a fee?”

And he just goes right on

Wretching my guts.

Maybe instead for a while, I’ll listen to the Teeny Man, and let him be as teeny as he can be.