“Good news,” said the doctor, “it’s a demon.”
I asked for its name: was it No One?
Was it Superego? He said it wasn’t those
but he couldn’t guess the name. “Who knows,”
he said, “It mightn’t even be a demon.
It’s what we call a ‘diagnosis by elimination.’”
Explaining he couldn’t operate,
the doctor said let’s go ahead and medicate
the hell out of it, make it sleepy.
I named him “Demon” after his identity.
I put him to sleep twice a day, one short
one long; three times a week he did sport;
he grew to six foot two; I said he was good;
I went to the door of his room and left food.

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