Anthology

ppm

To thin the blood with
poisons
smoke breathed in
liqueur poured down
magic injected through

we claw at the veins
smash our heads on the wall
gasp to empty our lungs
thin, thin, dilute, dilute dilute
until our blood is so small that it can't carry the thought from our head to our heart
to where it takes all of our focus and power to just breathe in and out
to where the only thing left is

survival
no fear,

no worry,

no pain
just the cold air in our lungs

and the ache in our heart