Somewhere,
between one and a dozen,
was infinity.
Peaceful,
identical to empty energy
engulfed by
a haze of elation.
No frustration.

Take me, pills.
You walked in and saw
a corpse with a smile
plastered on its face.
You touched me.
You ******* *******.
Emptiness dies like
joy when reality
falls on your face.

I felt nothing at all.
Just the infinity
of death.
But,
you touched me.
Enough had happened already.
But,
you touched me.
I chose to be away from you.
But,
you touched me.

Memory has gone in a haze.
Just the look of horror,
on your face,
when you
were the one
who dealt with the guilt.
The guilt of putting me back
in my place.

Take me, pills.
Take her, too.
She touched me.
One of three,
none will know just what it is
like,
to forcibly remove the pain.