The Percussion of Xanax
Before attempting to write I imagined typing with my right hand and holding a bottle of Xanax with the left
I wanted to see if the collisions of pills within this marmalade bottle could provide the background music to a backdrop of dim lights and rodents
Whether I’d be that beatnik in a state of panic who can write through the rattling of tablets against this plastic or the bongos reverberating in the acoustically gifted parts of my brain is uncertain when I just need to get some sleep
I’ve been in positions where my first instinct was not to write while holding a controlled substance like a baby on mother’s nipple
The first trauma an infant experiences is the disconnection of the umbilical cord after being welcomed into the world
And whether my solar plexus healed is one thing but have benzos been my milk this whole time?
Jack M. Freedman is a poet and spoken word artist from Staten Island, NY. Publications featuring his work span the globe. Countries include USA, Canada, UK, France, The Netherlands, Ukraine, India, Nigeria, Singapore, and Thailand. His chapbook, ...and the willow smiled (Cyberwit.net, 2019) is due for release in July.
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