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At Least by Jennifer Saunders

The pills that stop the crazy kill the words
No mania, no voice
An empty shell exterior
A med muddled mind existing
until the next dose
The sentences that once spewed freely
are gone
Who needs to feel when
you can chose to be numb
Shiny metallic limbs work
in sync
Nuts and bolts clink together
No thinking, no trying
At least I don’t want to kill myself anymore
At least I don’t stay in bed all day and wonder
what’s the point of all of this
At least the tears are kept contained
locked away in a vault
deep in the limbic system
No more wet cheeks
No more salt stinged lips
My chest doesn’t swell to the point it might burst
like it used to
I can get up and go to work everyday
Robotic life is better than none
No more hiding from faces
that twist and wirthe
like an Edvard Munch masterpiece
No more wanting more
I will accept less
No more awake all night
furtively scribbling words in a mind
that never sleeps
Now
I am asleep by 10 pm
adrift in a dreamless slumber
void of creativity
void of tragedy
even my screams
make no noise
I made a pact with the devil
He supplies the script each month
in exchange
I am silent
The pain is gone
but what remains hurts the most


About the author:

Jennifer Elizabeth Saunders hails from Bishop’s Falls Newfoundland, Canada. She has been a poet since the age of 8, and derives inspiration from the beautiful chaos she sees in the world around her. She is the mother of two, a self- proclaimed punk rock princess and a connoisseur of beat culture. Her literary inspirations include Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and the Beat Generation writers. She is eternally stuck in the 90’s with a 1940’s flair and can be reached at jennifer_elizabeth_saunders@hotmail.com.
Her work has been recently published for the first time in the online literary journals Anderbo, Sliver Apples Magazine and Buck Off Magazine.

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