Not sure what I need to feel better:
a benzo held under my tongue like a secret
or an exorcism to take the edge off.

My scars run deep.
Memories of pain etched
Where the metal kisses skin.
Even though the pain
Doesn’t seep,
The guilt flows heavy
With the red waves
And shame wraps it’s arms
Around me like a blanket
As I stand gripping the scissors
Willing the world to just
Stop

A funeral is my mind.
Where former lovers
and silver-tongued liars
attend their wake.

I spare no life when I can take.

An invitation from God
is what you’d need to depart.
But there is no God to be found here,
only your grievances and faults.

Stand steadfast and ready,
my reviled lovers and liars.
You’re in my dark abyss now
and you’ve taken your final bow.

Your procession has arrived.

One pill
Panic attack stops
Two pills
Anxiety goes
Three pills
I am high up in the clouds
Four pills
Who am I?

But I’m genuinely curious.

If I’m just a poet.

Or if I’m just sad.

****.

Do you see my sadness, too?