Killing the Suicide

Twelve-hundred milligrams of your favorite antipsychotic won’t kill you,
But it will make you fall on your face on Forbes Avenue …
On your ass at Oakland Avenue …
And totally incapacitate you …
Right before you forget your name.

This is what I think about as I struggle towards sleep.
My body begging for some Geodon …
Ativan …
Restoril …
While my mind races with thoughts of you.

Tonight I committed you to hide you safe from yourself.
You can probably see your house from there;
You taking your turn …
Enjoying your view …
High atop Cardiac Hill.

I wonder what floor you’re on.
There’s a good chance I’ve been there.
And walked those halls before you …
Tinting the space with my pleasure
As they medicated my mania away.

You, at the opposite end of my spectrum,
Depression eating away at your soul
Yet you fight …
Killing the suicide inside.