Anamika N Poet Free verse

Unmedicated

It's eleven: I drag myself out of bed.
It's noon: I write a note.
It's one: I buy some pills
It's two: I buy some daffodils
It's three: I want to be buried with them
It's four: I want to be cremated.
It's five: I'm in Central Park. I'm on a bench, I'm crying.
It's six: I'm freezing, I cry some more. It's obvious, I'm dying
It's seven: I think
It's eight: I laugh
It's nine: I'm florid -- I'm exuberant.
It's ten: I write a manuscript,
It's eleven: I try to burn it.
It's midnight: And I'm wide awake
It's one: And I'm out cold.

My brain is like a shaken snow globe with
My sanity as unsettled as the flakes.
But in my mind, and in my soul,
Gravity has slowed.

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Dc Bursey September 25, 2017 at 7:08 PM hi I the list of a hard day filled with pain and the self-doubt of a writer I enjoyed the read thank you

Black Eyed Susan July 10, 2012 at 8:01 AM Interesting thoughts - i like how you described your feelings by the hour and the end, how your thinking had slowed - a wonderful analogy to the flakes in the snow globe. btw, I hope you will write some poems for my contests - the current one is "forgotten" check it out on the contests page.