Benzo Brain #9

[Hallucinations.]

Why is the picket fence

undulating? The easels I

set up in the white room

are also undulating. They

never did that before. Flashes

of lightning on a sunny day?

The yellow caution paint

rises up to get me. I push it

down. Asphalt repairs slither

like snakes. Flute music in

the laundry chute. Words

on the page shrink, fade and

disappear or they try to sneak

off the page. They think it’s

funny, but it’s not. I get even.

Strange fonts. Italics. Line

breaks. Take that, little shits.

Nausea. I barf into a zip-lock.

Benzo Brain #10

[Pain.]

It’s brain damage. Arms

twisted against my chest.

Fists with fingers twitching.

Legs kicking all night long.

Feet went numb with only

electric jolts at each painful

step. I’m Captain Ahab! LOL

Shiver me timbers. Shuffle.

Stumble. Shuffle. Shuffle. Fall.

Can’t remember how to rise.

Aching jaw. Must be hidden

rotten teeth. “Nope.” A ghostly

pallor embraces my face. I can’t

straighten my left knee. Hobble

to the john. Piss on the floor.

Benzo Brain #11

[Numbed out. Alone.]

I can’t subtract, multiply or

divide. I can add using my

fingers like I write a haiku.

I stutter. I smile and pretend

everything is just fine. I show

my last friend a photo from my

“Closed Doors” collection.