Benzos, Bardo, and Brokenness | A Poem

by L.M. Browning, from a working collection

 

i.

There is an 8 min window in the eye of the hurricane

—suspended in the bardo of belief and disbelief—

while the benzo filters into the bloodstream

and the fitful mind with hand outreached,

               sinks.

 

ii.

 

They say poetry must tell us something of life and the wider-world,

else it is confessional blather beyond use,

but what if I want it to be only for me—in all its obscurity?

What if in the confession of those things never admitted

               the outliers find fellowship?

 

iii.

The abnormal is normal

maladjustment is default calibration

humanity is imperfect by nature,

               so stop hating yourself for what you are.

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