I Am On A Diet From Xanex :( It Sucks!


I am keeping a log of how many I take and trying to cut back. I realize that perhaps I take too many? I really hate running out! With that, I’d like to share one of my favorite poems.


 


The Addict by Anne Sexton


 


Sleepmonger,


deathmonger,


with capsules in my palms each night,


eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles


I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.


I'm the queen of this condition.


I'm an expert on making the trip


and now they say I'm an addict.


Now they ask why.


WHY!


 


Don't they know that I promised to die!


I'm keping in practice.


I'm merely staying in shape.


The pills are a mother, but better,


every color and as good as sour balls.


I'm on a diet from death.


 


Yes, I admit


it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-


blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,


hauled away by the pink, the orange,


the green and the white goodnights.


I'm becoming something of a chemical


mixture.


that's it!


 


My supply


of tablets


has got to last for years and years.


I like them more than I like me.


It's a kind of marriage.


It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside


of myself.


 


Yes


I try


to kill myself in small amounts,


an innocuous occupatin.


Actually I'm hung up on it.


But remember I don't make too much noise.


And frankly no one has to lug me out


and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.


I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie


eating my eight loaves in a row


and in a certain order as in


the laying on of hands


or the black sacrament.


 


It's a ceremony


but like any other sport


it's full of rules.


It's like a musical tennis match where


my mouth keeps catching the ball.


Then I lie on; my altar


elevated by the eight chemical kisses.


 


What a lay me down this is


with two pink, two orange,


two green, two white goodnights.


Fee-fi-fo-fum-


Now I'm borrowed.


Now I'm numb.
Aw8ingf8 Aw8ingf8
26-30, F
Feb 17, 2010