We don’t always know what’s best for us
Reach for the wrong bottle in the medicine cabinet, go out when we should stay in, eat a salad instead of chocolate cake, let him kiss you even though
you wonder if this is contagious
And of course, you do not get better. In fact it gets worse.
So before you infect anyone else you go to the doctor and you start to list your symptoms:
My bed is trying to drown me and I wake up in the middle of the day having lived for hours
When I do sleep it is nightmares strung together like teeth on a chain
The bottom half of me is quicksand
The top half is a quarry, a quandary, a black hole
I am in withdrawal but I have not withdrawn
I want to be touched but I do not know how to put out this fire
and doctor, before you ask,
i have been to church and I have lit every candle I own. I have bought a new pair of shoes and washed my pillowcases. I have dried my tears with wet hair and I have written all the poems I had the time to learn.
And so he told me
that this is the only way we know
how to grow up