I touch my pulse
to remind myself I am sane:
blood is throbbing beneath my skin
in every blue lilac vein.
My hands tremble,
the pillow and sheet echo every sound,
every flutter of panic
coursing – swift acting poison –
through my limbs.
And I know this is chemical,
I know the darkness is all
perceived – intangible nothingness –
but I am tired of tiny deaths
and saving myself from every grave.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020