pills don't have the same taste.
they are unique in either
the gel encased form
or in a crusted, dry texture.
sometimes sour and others mild,
but they all slide down the same.
they burn with the acid,
swirling like balsamic brown
in the deepest pit of me
that is rotten like an avocado
i ate last week.
i take medicine, sure.
i have a severe case
of high blood pressure
with a diagnosis of insomnia.
if i stay inside with the shades
i won't have to know
when the sun shines.
i told that to a therapist once.
then he said i might be depressed.
how if i laugh?
if i laugh
my problems don't have to stay.
they'll just go away.
that's what my father would say.
but i know for sure,
pills don't have the same taste.
even when i hold them over my face
to pour and pour
until i won't have to breathe anymore.
sad to say,
but why live to lie
about a life you aren't happy living.
be happy with a truth
you can die trusting.
