vicodin is a long term friend
with a warrent for my liver
and my life.

1:43am
we had an appointment
and god only knows
i could never be late for such
a chalky sense of closure.

and the young paramedic
who burst my vein and scolded me
could only pray his words
meant more than the hum of streetlights
as my body exchanged existence
for the embodiment of thought
and a brittle concept of my phrenic nerve

which was never more at peace than when
my lungs remembered the luxury
of standstill traffic

of weighted morals

of crushing insecurity's release
and the resulted ballooning
as squashed egos cry, and the garage door screams as it's yanked open

horrid sounds and tortured motion on both accounts

spiritual cataracts torn free
commercialized visions now blur

as the orange bottle morphs from
vicodin to paracetamol

equalized views in my bloodstream
as the sheet metal ceiling shifts to plaster tiles

to a TV set

to a bathroom mirror

to an agonized woman next door

to the back windows where my mother cries where no one but the whole world can watch

to a blue plastic mattress and a first floor window covered with bars

to a pale green day room with a caged TV
where there was bleach in the stomach of a nine year old

where the dying took their resurrecting breath between games of spoons

where the hinges screamed and blood pressure was taken three times a day

this where the living came to kiss death goodbye

until next time

Under sizzling and bleeping
The time runs nigh
Between heaven and hell
In a room, too bright
Runs a body deadly circles
Captured in pipes
While the fellowship falls silent
As the headman decides
To live and let die

Slow, but soon, the dying noise
Leaves a weakly beating heart
Fighting it's own pointless war
No men alive shall ever thwart
And lifes children turn quiet
As they face the final loss
The fact they can´t deny
They live and let die

Now, the silence bales and centers
Around the fallen prey
Slowly, death spreads, like a cancer
Drives the living far away
Until only ease is lagging
In the minds that still stand by
Relief about the outcome
To live and let die

I hear the cry in your eyes
I feel your longing for peace

Am I as helpless as I fear you think I am?
If three syllables could move this mountain,

I’d scream it out loud,
mending our wounds,

Yours a worried soul,
Mine a unsettled heart.


<c.h.b.>

it seeps
under my fingernails into skin
doused in clean! the filth is killed!
then I spit at it.

Demands:

caress my brow in a palm, any warm pocket of flesh
a grandmother’s *****
the spine of a leaf
my dog’s velvet-soft triangle-shaped ear
anything that will let my grief get some rest

sorrow is heavy trash bag to haul

find me a bellhop or a sidewalk construction man
something with biceps and a hardened face. someone who can clean **** up.

please,
sweep
these shards could maim a bystander
         why force one to bleed such an unnecessary truth
wouldn't want to wreck these shiny floors

better to keep it hid, better tighten my lips around it
I mean,
how do -you- feel under these fluorescent lights?
who is studying who?

I understand now my circus of an existence was born
in a tight space
between the exhausted description of my histories
-the official ones- and

these secrets,
the juicy stuff
      
encrypted in me

You never really know anyone.
Need an example? Have a stay at in the psych ward.

The girl who caught my eye
after rolling up her sleeves to paint
started to cover scars until
I showed her mine.
She wrote song lyrics on her arms
to remind her that others feel the same way.

There is solidarity.

One girl with the cute afro
and anger issues
cried after yelling at one of the other girls.
She loved to do word searches.

Who says we are in control?

The little girl who bangs her head up against the wall
to rid herself of the demons
looks adorable with her fuzzy blanket
singing along to watching Disney movies on the couch.

Anyone can be effected.

One girl who had to learn to eat again,
wouldn't let you
hate on your own body.
She could
speak 3 languages
and draw like a goddess.

We are more than our pain.

The people living under depression can crack the brightest smiles.
We wouldn’t wish these feelings on anyone-
that’s we always want to crack jokes.

Between the locked doors and gray walls,
we shared stories from days long ago,
we got excited on chicken tender day,
we ran around the gym and painted everything we could-

We are trying to heal.

Next time someone assumes
they know you, but get it all wrong, try
not to get mad,
no matter how hard you have to grind your teeth,
because you know the truth.

The truth that
you never really know anyone,
at the end of the day-
if it helps, don’t worry, nobody really knows you.