I want to unscrew the bottle of pills and swallow the goddamn cotton ball inside of it.
I will inhale the pure white sleeping aids,
coating my brain, turning
unwanted thoughts into cold molasses.
I can taste the bitter candy now,
I take a swig of i-don't-give-a-shit and lay in the wake of a hollowed-out tree trunk that is my ribcage marrow.
It is all I can do to stay sane while the ravens
claw at my wrists,
demanding blood so eroded it has already left
on the walls of my veins.
Just let them spare an indentation of hope in my breastbone,
while I busy myself choking on cotton fibers and
not to breath the poisonous truth
that lies within their eyes.