Side Effects
This poem is not intended as medical advice
I wish everyone had to take antipsychotics
Then they could understand
Just how much they’re asking of me
Every night
A splinter sliced from my brain
Portioned on my cutting board
What’s the right price to pay for peace?
$24.39 with insurance for 90 days
At least Judas got silver in his bargain
I pay by the sliver, slivers of self
A blood tax for balance
“Just take a pillow instead
Smother me out”
At least then both of us might enjoy it
Because either way
you’re suffocating me
But tomorrow night
The bottle opens
I swallow
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