poetry

Free Verse: Placebo

you forgave me

despite all my faults, my fallacies, my immoralities

you forgave me

capable of compassion

with no need to ration

due to abundance

equal to sugar free lollipops left on the counter

of a pediatric doctors office. my heart beats once

and you let it beat twice, no bother the arrhythmia, you say its benign

but i say its cancerous, tumorous the clots of dead tissue are numerous on the surface of your eye. the glaucoma  is deliberate.

a placebo you take like sugar pills or perhaps prayer

your saint like mercy

makes me thirsty for holy water

that might burn my  lips

as the smell of rose hips fill the cathedral

tall stained glass windows

tainted yet adored

for the mosaic pictures

of the stories that formed the world

as they preach it

to the choir that is deaf from their own voice

yet you hear a low sound

a low whimper so close to the ground

that I have beat my self into

the dirt moves aside so I can sink

to where all the hides go

6 feet under a lid of mahogany

with no bell on my finger

no toll that lingers

meant to be forgotten

skin left to rotten

yet you bring life

200 cc’s of saline, maybe an ibuprofen or two or three

you say it’s nothing to be concerned about to let you know if it gets worse

My brow furrows my lips purse as you stare at me wide eyed

and sure

that my transgression is only a procession to something better

and I can write letters to debtors as long as I remember

that it will be returned to the sender and that I will need two stamps

in order to put out the abysmal flame that burns my throat

as I scream i’m sorry

My screams deafen the deaf

my window blinds the blind with a blindfold

made of silk and skin

yet you see whats  within

past the anger past the hate

past the bound pearly gates that I’m not allowed in

I hear the names from the book I don’t even dare to look

because my names not there

yet you penciled me in

between the lines

although I didn’t have insurance

no copays no nothing

perhaps a misdiagnosis

of the psychosis

that reads upon the prescription label

that I seemed to have misplaced

You say I don’t need them

the pain has succeeded

but its still in my head

like shrapnels of led

from a bullet lodged in an old wound

that is stitched and ready to heal

as long as I stop picking and scratching

and overreacting and stop arguing so matter o factly

that it will turn out terrible, exactly how I saw it

and that I can gnaw and tear with my mangy paws

I can refuse and reuse my excuses for not letting it go

for not letting you know, for my suppressed remorse

not blocking it at the source but thats not the answer

but the problem, full of words and unnecessary information

constant teleportation into the drowning pool that is my justice

for forever remembering what lust is and what it has done to my perfect skin

scars are scars an bruises are bruises

I don’t need more if what I choose is

forgiveness of faults of those fallacies not to forget my immoralities

after all

you forgave me.

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