Medication

Rubbing my palms together. 
Too much heat, pills rolling on the counter. 
Rolling and toiling. 
The pills look bigger than usual. 
A glass of water, sloshing, and splattering. 
Medication is…
When it’s late and you want to go to bed. 
Medication is, 
White, green, blue. 
Trying to grasp them. 
They seem different today. 
So do I, maybe that’s good. 
It’s been three weeks. 
And horrible things haven’t been happening so much. 
Like rolling around on the hardwood floor, and holding my head. 
Medication is…
White, green, blue, and cold. 
Until they are in my burning, shaking hands. 
Medication is…
Whatever happens next. 
Which is usually sleeping, but still shaking a bit. 
Medication is…
Alive as any person can be. 
So am I.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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