Pills

Content Warning: This poem describes thoughts of self-harm and suicide.

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You can keep me on the pills. I’ve never thought of killing myself.

I’ve never thought of killing myself,
doctor,
even though the cement below my balcony
is squared like a chess board
and each open dumpster
welcomes me like an inviting target.

You can keep me on the pills; I’ve never thought of killing myself.

But I have considered the sound of the impact,
my rippling clothes
as I drop directly down,
the reaction of my parents,
the reaction of anyone seeing my flight and the cleanup crew.
I don’t think as much about the cleanup crew
since I don’t know them.

You can keep me on the pills because
it won’t matter if I kill myself.

I’d rather drown from over-watering
than wilt away dryly;
overdose than die from withdrawal;
bang than fizzle.

See, the pills you give me numb my pain,
doc,
and so if they’re giving me life like that,
I feel they have every right
to take it as well.

Alan Keith

Alan is a substitute teacher working out of Toronto, Canada. He tries to keep his writing honest by only writing about what he sees, but if he’s being (really) honest, he actually makes a lot of it up. Alan has printed two short story collections and a novel; they sit anonymously on his bookshelf… A poetry collection is his next project. When Alan isn’t writing, he’s either walking his blind Miniature Pinscher, riding his bike, or drinking a tea with his girlfriend. To comment on Alan’s work, whether good or bad, use writeralankeith@gmail.com.