there's someone
   in my head, but
it's not me. 

  “there was always that
          for everyone, some
             just more than others.”

     I have a *******
   military base
in my head.

       I am planning out
   missions taking place
halfway around the world. 

    “I hate needing something.
             it makes me feel weak.”

       I was the same way
for human assistance. 

but the drugs? those
   were just chemicals
       and I am a science
                    experiment.

                I'm something
         you have known
     about for months,
   finally throwing
together at the
last moment.

I'd tar and feather you
Parade you around the town square grounds
probably shoot you dead with my colt single action
or draw and quarter you with four fine stallions,
or sic the dogs on you with no mercy.
but, alas it's 2017. So I will just sit here and write nonsense.
-E.

my heart felt black and cold
so I took four little green pills to take the edge off my wandering mind
thoughts of wanting to die
but when those weren't enough I let one more dissolve under my tongue
because they say that gets into your bloodstream
they say that's how to really make it work
and suddenly I was floating into a white light
there was nothing around me
not even my thoughts
I guess I understand now why van ghoh ate the yellow paint
I guess I understand why people crash their cars into trees
and wrap them around poles
when your heart feels like it's rotting from the inside you you'll do anything to feel the light

The sunflower dreams disintegrate, leaving dust. I see you there through the plexiglass wall, and wonder if you can see me too. The wax drips from the tip of the candle. Five spots, six-seven. Nine. I burn for you. The red runs crimson down my thigh. I reach for you through my condemned klonopin haze. Once again, I was too weak for you. The pressure builds, forming cracks in my psyche, making me wonder who I am or where I’m going.

Blank spaces. The canvas between white and black, the words that don’t fill the spaces in between I love you. And I don’t know what you want me to do, so I sit outside and chain smoke and listen to the birds who are confused, because it’s raining. I’m sick, you say, as if that straightens out the jumble in my mind. We’re solving the world’s problems one puff of nicotine at a time.