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Little Screws
by Aaron BlairThe pills look like little screws,
and I’m on the rack if I don’t take them,
but I’m on the rack if I do.
The inquisitor asks me to be happy,
but his hands are moist with all the blood
spilled in the pursuit, all the rivers
I ever drifted down on my way to the sea inside.
The chemicals on my tongue dissolve, a sacrament,
the sallow skin of hope, flayed and cut to pieces.
The pills swear they are my salvation,
and I know that I don’t deserve it,
but part of me prays that I do. 05/03/2011 Posted on 05/03/2011
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 05/03/11 at 05:45 PM God knows I've experienced this. Wonderful presentation. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/04/11 at 12:26 AM ...heavy-o-city! cool. |
| Posted by Amy Manning on 06/02/11 at 03:59 PM I used to hate my zoloft. I really did, I stopped taking it for three months once. Then i realized that it helps me cope with everything, I was happy for a time, before something happened, but anyway, that tiny pill is worth a lot to me. |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 10/20/12 at 02:45 AM As a woman who's been here, felt this, and sometimes goes back...this struck a cord deep inside me. I'll hold it close to me, when I'm feeling down, as a reminder that even though I'm low, I'm not alone. |
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