Percocet Prescription, 11/6/23
I want to search the word for suicide and find
not a helpline or seven ways to remember to
 live or prevent non-living but rather a future
within this feeling that death is a comfortableÂ
fit on my body. A force eventually moves as
needed—for pain, for kindness as a pleadingÂ
failsafe—but to pretend suicide is evacuation
and not a wish for safety against a world that
just wants you alive is a failure of empathy and it’sÂ
so infuriatingly tiring what wreckage you want of me.
Percocet Prescription, 11/8/23Â
When there is a button to die and you press
every button and nothing ever happens
you are left to wait for a finish you have chosen,
the inevitable zero woven into your every
article: an infinite indefinite definite. Wait forÂ
an eruption of days QTY zero SUPPLY zero
NO REFILLS REMAINING, just a lung finishedÂ
belching. Of course you won’t wait forever
yet each day is a refusal to explode even
as steam rises, the rock so hot to the touch.
Percocet Prescription, 11/9/23Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Fear fends for itself, devises ways to leave
when no one is watching. Look over there!Â
Severance is swift and easy to mistake for a fieldÂ
a two-car garage a fatal highway accident a schoolÂ
shooting acetaminophen fifty-five tabs open—
How can I die How can I—even family miffs it.Â
For pain feeds quietly upon us: large zero mouth.
Alone is never alone, it is safe here to try and noÂ
one will say friend you are very loved to keep
your hurt intact. Zero over zero over zero youÂ
see a warm tunnel of zeros leading away you
want it to catch you want so bad to catch you.