Mental Illness Collage
I have more honor than pills.
With empty containers about to spark.
More honor than pills.
I think I lost a bone back there.
More of a hole-in-the-sand type of thought.
There’s more than a missing arm bone I left back there.
Leaving a trail of organs behind.
More honor in pills.
I have a temptation to shut off all the lights, all the brights, all the mites.
And the sand has thoughts either way.
Mental illness is more than a liver, bone, or appendix.
So what else do I have to toss?
Larvae sprouted in my wake.
So what else is going to wake up?
That’s what pills do.
For a lightning-bursting, recipe-laden, relish-brain person like me.
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