“Do not deny us our sedatives.” unknown surrealist 1919.
For me it’s beer and tequila
For others, it’s Russian blondes
or the rifle range or little blue pills.
Whatever IT takes.
I once knew a woman
who with 6 inches of needle and thread
enjoyed sewing up her forearms
each Sunday morning.
There are things
nobody speaks of
that haunt and weigh.
There are things
science nor your mother
can explain.
They just are.
There’s some need
to do IT
whatever IT takes
to make it through the week
or wake up another morning
to write
a shitty poem
like this one.