Ambien

Ambien doesn’t sneak up on you like a more subtle drug might. Ambien has a key to your skull door and walks right into your brain with a polite, methodical confidence. Ambien doesn't fluff pillows in your head. Ambien goes to the control panel up there and systematically shuts down your typing skills, and as kind of a joke, lets thoughts worth typing run amok. (Ambien has a sense of humor.) Then Ambien unleashes a chemical component that makes you feel both lethargic and spazzy.  I picture Ambien as a tiny R2D2 droid flying inside my head, shooting out jets of pharmaceutical concoctions over my frontal lobe and all along my cerebral hemisphere. It works its way in to my thalamus and pituitary gland, spraying like a cropduster. Ambien then leaves with a courteous, “Ta Ta!,” as it shoots a rhino dart into my cerebellum. Sweet dreams, till sunbeams find me.