When everyone has abandoned me,
my shadow laid there next to me,
and it whispered “let’s go home”

And when my poems
turned into suicide notes,
I sharpened the knife,
and put it on my pillow
to sing me to sleep

A bottle of pills with
my full name on it
White and motherly,
I heard them call my
name from a distance

I swallowed the pills,
I swallowed the knife,
my shadow swallowed me

I am finally home

A pill in the morning,
and one before I sleep

Pearly white and motherly,
I like them better than me

I awoke today,
and felt a strange force pulling
at my stomach and tearful soul

Hollow and motherless,
the pills have left my body

Is the side effects the body’s
way of refusing to heal?

Am I swallowing bombs
or chemical kisses?

Will they mother me
and bring back my mind?

Dear my aching body,
I promise you,
this is not another suicide

So be still,
be very still,
and keep the pills down  

Don’t whine
Don’t cuss
Don’t fuss
Don’t resist
Don’t fright
Don’t fight
Don’t cry
Don’t die

This is not a suicide

Do I take a clonazepam
Do I take a seroquel
Do I take the new antipsychotic
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
If i smoke **** do I long term fertilize my paranoia
Is there a way to live without sedation
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
Agitation
Irritation
Sensitivity
Anxiety
Paranoia
The collective static of the tension spots

Internal screaming
Waiting for the clonazepam to kick in