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Anne Sexton - The Addict
Work rating: Medium

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.
Source
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