You are sixteen, fistful of pills
a single tear rolls off your cheek on to a meager sheet of paper
blotting the ink of a single word,
goodbye.
what else is there to say?

It all feels so simple!
Run away easy peasy take the pills and it'll all be over
Foolish girl this is only the beginning...

Next thing you remember is being strapped down in an ambulance choking on globs of charcoal
It's cherry flavored, the paramedic assured me.
As if that could disguise the feeling of failure

You remember the ringing pounding in your ears, alternating between darkness and the blinding fluorescent lights

They scrub you clean from the inside out
As if the charcoal could soak up that evil voice inside of you
The one that haunts your nightmares and daydreams alike

To be young and dumb
Wandering without destination,
The night is in full swing
Blank sky, smothered by the warm lights of the city
We stumble upon a tiny convenience store at the corner of realidad y sueños
A seemingly ordinary site now stands out as a beacon of promise on the abandoned street
This is what I love about the night.
We enter into a jungle of twinkies and boxed wine, paired with the aroma of stale cigarettes
I am in awe...

A ****** of crows
Rest in the green of the cemetery,
Illuminated in golden light
We tiptoe on sacred ground, above disintegrating bones
Enacting scenes of love, joy, and sadness
as if to honor the lives gone by

I am fraying at the seams
Small strings dragging along,
They stitch me back up with loose stitches, easily undone
I take 6 pills a day to fix the hems
Sewing by hand in an insurmountable competition against the sewing machine
People console me, tell me to never lose hope, it will get better
But how do I keep hope alive when I can't even thread the needle

Gone are grey days, numb days
Forgotten words on the tip of your tongue days: love, joy, passion
Say goodbye to those white sterile walls and weighted chair days
You are nothing but a few small pills in a cup days, DSM your only friend. Because today I lay in the sun and soak up every last ray with gratitude, singing to the birds and earthworms alike, marvel at daffodils and garden weeds. I voraciously pick every last fig from the tree in all varying shades of ripeness letting the bittersweet range of flavors burst in my mouth.