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




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.



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


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.



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.


Now I'm borrowed.

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