The Dangers of Smoking in Bed

by Mariana Enriquez

I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. SYLVIA PLATH, “ELM”

Sometimes I think the crazies aren’t people, they’re not real. They’re like incarnations of the city’s madness, like escape valves. If they weren’t here, we’d all kill each other or die of stress, or,

she just wanted that vaguely distant, chemically induced state that disconnected her but still let her live a little. Less and less, but enough.