he's in Washington.

goodnight moon. 
drift off to sleep oh ye stars in the sky
because I'm sitting down here in a cold bed waiting to be heard by the silence
wrapped up in sheets that once protected me from the monsters in my closet 

goodnight alarm clock
I hate you

goodnight guitars
even with six of you, space still feels empty
but the songs sound good

goodnight sunglasses
I've only worn you twice 
but I promise I still like you
and I promise we are still together 
maybe we just need a break, 
maybe we need to see other people. 

goodnight mom
sorry I'm still mean to grace
and sorry I messed up
and sorry family nights turn into civil war

goodnight dad
I wish you could be here on Friday

goodnight sertraline
you really aren't as helpful as the doctor said you would be 

goodnight beanies
even with seven of you I can't seem to hold in my sanity
each thread of humanity slips out of the cotton effortlessly 

goodnight mountains
you remind me of M and that's alarming
she's never even seen the peaks 
but she brought them crashing down on top of me 
like dropping a pin. 

goodnight savannah
maybe today the girls won't be so mean

goodnight grace
I try to protect you more than you know

goodnight Sadie
for being six years old 
you're pretty adorable. 

goodnight

grapes

drink it up, its good for you.
cool medicine runs down your throat like the water down Niagara falls,
but this time the liquid burns
like the tears running down your cheeks.

cherry flavor can't drown out the
misshapen tattoos that are left on your thoughts.
and a spoonful of sugar won't mask the taste.

sleep aids only delay the inevitable.
because popping pill after pill habituates the pill after pill
until the only reality you posses is the one you find in your dreams.

and grape flavor is the worst.

I am afraid.
because there is no medicine to heal an aching mind.
because frankly there is no medicine to remedy love, either.

and medicine doesn't stop the alarm.

so I hit the clock over and over and over
until the noise stops
and I drift back to sleep.

prescriptions tend to pile themselves like the cinder blocks lining a jail cell
locked in by dosage and directions,
only to be let out by side effects and liver failure.
but I've been on my best behavior,
so I get parole.

life outside the barbed wire fences is a life we are all too afraid to live.
outside the plastic casing and twistable lids,
we don't even know how to.

and grape breath is almost worse than the flavor.

I've got battle scars and scars that tell me I loved once.
but just like the rest of vanity that surrounds,
you tell me that I should just cover those up too.

-

medicine has a difficult time healing broken guitar strings.
they were bent by more than two calloused fingers.
they split over passion and emotions that I don't even know yet.

and I'm pretty sure that if I poured NyQuil over the fretboard, than my guitar would taste like grape too.

-

I guess fried eggs could technically count as medicine.
I sure like them more than sertraline.
same with girls and and mandolins and star wars and huntsville.

but girls don't go with star wars,
and mandolins stay out of tune,
and eggs in huntsville aren't all that good.

-

I'm pretty sure my heart still beats,
but I can't find where it says that on the prescription.
the directions don't say how to deal with trauma
and the side effects didn't mention mental numbness

but somewhere I remember reading that overdosing on normality couldn't hurt you.
unless of course your kidneys stop.

hurt

no means no 

broken bones

cut lips

bruised limbs 

and he gets away 

no means no

as if screams weren't enough 

as if getting hit wasn't enough 

as if common decency wasn't enough 

no means no 

a broken frame of a woman crumpled under the weight of humiliation 

but it's ok, because "you are sexy" 

shackled by the trauma, the victim is imprisoned 

and the offender is free 

no means no

objectified and scarred, you take something from her that was no ones to take

terrified and battered, she's too scared to call the police because he will do it again 

no means no

by the tears of horrified eyes,

wounds cut far deeper than the skin.

no means no

until she is free from the pain,

the door is always open. 

and the memories won't ever fade to forget. 

no means no

hearts beat, 

and blood burns. 

but toxicity remains. 

no means no

and no was never spelled Y. E. S.