If only you could drown the heart in Drano,
unclogging the feelings stuck in your chest.
Feelings that will never find words effective enough
for containment.
These words need not be heavy,
since the sensation of danger is a strength in and of itself.
But they need to be colorful,
colorful enough to flash a message,
Help me help me help me
blinking like the light bulbs encircling a starlet’s dressing room mirror.
While these shooting stars fly down to earth,
propelled by a chemical orbit,
your heart is overdosing on feelings.
Just as quiet.
Just as deadly.
Help me help me help me
It feels like when you swallow a twenty-milligram pill of Ritalin
and the yellow circle gets stuck in your throat.
Binding you, like a ribbon around a ballerinas’ foot.
But only for a second.
