She said take two
when you’re stressed
and let me know
how that works
But I get so down
that I take three
or four or five
One time I took
the whole bottle
and I showed up at her door
in a panic-
“What’ll happen to me now?”
So she gave me gin and tonic
and she told me not to worry-
“It’ll all be over soon anyhow”
She peeled back the label-
they were candy after all!
and I haven’t worried much
Two days away
it settles on me
like a plague-
were it today
I might be spared
the chaos of mind-
not for fear
that I might fail
but for knowing
that I will succeed.
I guess I know a lot of people
who think change is
one day you got a dog on a leash,
next day it’s a cat and
ain’t it a fun surprise.
I suppose some people figure it’s
funny and crazy and
lol ain’t that the way
when tattoos lose their color and
change says it doesn’t remember
what they mean.
Apparently to me there are those people
who insist it’s all an adventure,
don’t even TAKE your birth control,
God spins the wheel!
And don’t bother with all that poison
But I think there’s a lot of underground here.
It’s so little, the thing that’s wrong.
But it’s a pea, it’s a needle, it’s a lost button-
it’s a second skin scrubbed off
that leaves you pink and raw and motionless-
it’s a magnifying glass for every grain of sand
to scratch and infect your defenseless mind.
And they tell you it’s no big deal
that your favorite book has changed-
changed, CHANGE we welcome with booze
at midnight, CHANGE we spare for the bucket,
CHANGE we accept in exchange for our bills, bills, bills.
But you LOVED LOVED LOVED that book
I guess a lot of people got that second skin,
their dogs turn to cats and they shrug,
they make up new stories about their tattoos
and thank God that they’re really quite sane.
But you’ll be up nights asking God why you aren’t,
why it drives you so crazy
that nothing stays put,
that your old favorite book makes you blue as hell,
and even you can’t be certain why.
This is my brain on OCD,
a What-If factory
that works overtime
to reach my Crazytown quota
This is my brain on poetry,
exactly what I want to have said,
released to the world
so meticulously worded,
not one letter
out of place.
This is the world I’ve built,
where no one comes
and no one goes,
and I don’t answer the questions
I ask myself
again and again.
This is the place I’ve hidden,
where everything’s under control,
and this is the answer
to the question I stopped asking
because I’m pretending
it doesn’t exist.
This is my brain on love again
but it mostly smells of fear
and I can’t say
which one I could live