Shrunk

[Verse 1]
My first name is a random set of numbers and letters
And other alphanumerics that changes hourly forever
My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a susurrus
It couldn't just be "John Doe" or "Bingo"
My address, a made-up language written out in living glyphs
Lifted from demonic literature and religious text
Telephone, uncovered by purveyors of the ouija
When checked against the CBGB women's room graffiti
My social, a sudoku; my age is obscure
My in-case-of-emergency is in the daisies, chasing birds
Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores
And people who open doors for the people who open doors
My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo
Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow
Nervous in the service, still; I'm burger meat and purple pills
—"Here." —"Thank you. We'll call your name." —"Sure, you will."

[Interlude]
Skipped lunch
I'm shrunk

[Verse 2]
You pack up all your manias, you're sitting in the waiting room
You're dreaming of arcadia, you're feeling like a baby tooth
Awaiting panacea, channeling your inner Beowulf
In purgatory, just before you pay up to filet yourself and others
In the name of help, coal on a conveyor belt
Into ego death alone, no telephone from Gabriel
I'm half a human, combin' over Home and Garden, stoned
Gold chains over turtleneck, cigars over cologne
A thousand shitty paintings wrapped around a wounded animal
Woo him with the Schubert, he's a future human cannonball
Little fuckers fighting, mother hiding in her Hulu
I'm climbing up the stucco, let's get to the seppuku—uh-oh
That pretty penny turned the prickly into Benji
If you save up all your winnings, then you get to count your blessings
I finally crunched the budget up and punched the button
She called my name out and pushed me into an oven

[Interlude]
The fuck?
I'm shrunk

[Verse 3]
She says, "I'm not your enemy."
I said, "That sounds like something that my enemy would say."
Instead of playing off the chemistry
She said, "You're being difficult." I said, "I'm being guarded
You're a quarter-mil' in debt; I get more guidance from my barber
Look—I'm not good at this; I grew up in a noogie-fest
You built your walls up high or said goodbye to all your Cooky-Puss
Here's one: Every time my telephone buzzes
I see images of hooded riders setting fire to hundreds."
She said, "When you start getting all expressive and symbolic
It's impossible to actualize an honest diagnostic."
I said, "When you start getting all exact and algebraic
I'm reminded it's a racket, not a rehabilitation."
Okay, agree to disagree as grown-ups from opposing clans
Honoring the push and pull, I should've called the Scholomance
Oh well, preservation is a doozy
—"Will you be needing another appointment?" —"Absolutely."
I'm shrunk!