You can be my mouthful of pills
to which I’ll say: “One day, I’ll be clean”
Clean of you, clean of this
because I’m an obsessively tidy person

You can be the needle in the crook of my elbow
that pumps life through me while I lay comatose
Asleep, but awake; gone, but here
while my mother cries alone after the accident

You can be the crushed up aspirin in my palm
and I wait in the darkness for a summer sunrise
Rays burn flesh, fires on fiery hair
Maybe the drugs are enough to cool my skin

You can be a phantom limb, a phantom heart
and steal away my thunder, lightning, and rain
Take me: silent, fearful
drive me across the oceans in your Honda Civic

You can be the record that plays inside my bones
and the music the waves that I float upon facing the sky
The lake, the green waters, your green eyes
undressed in that car after we danced to the bass in our chests

You can be the cruel voice inside my head
that whispers secrets about prophets and flames
Day and night, sleep be ******
my lord, I would never take pills to rid myself of you