by Mani, Grade 11
Single file to the counter,
Where smudged plexiglass distorts the orderly’s face
“Take one capsule once daily until you are able to shake off the pill-induced fog and realize your autonomy”
Half teal, half sterile white
To be taken with only the heftiest of gulps
If I were to slice the two colours, twist and then pull
I suspect pale powder would pour out,
Fall through the air,
Collect in a snowbank-shaped mound
Like the sand that slips through my hourglass, one that seems to now empty far too fast
The hands of the brass grandfather clock vibrate as they tick towards twelve,
My hands tremble as I reassure myself
The paintings etched onto my irises are littered with harsh lines, sharp as lasers,
Long as my ‘to do laters’
I’ll admit that I miss the murals they’ve replaced
Frescos filled with ferns, and paisleys, drifting clouds, and daisies
I shake, shake, shake
Scurry from place to place
My whole life flipped into one giant race
Can no longer afford to be late because my jar of excuses is how I paid-
For the pills
Teal and sterile white
To be taken with only the heftiest of gulps
I much preferred when my thoughts would play bumper cars and I could cartwheel all the way home
Now my shadow’s the same shape as every other
As if it’s been freshly popped out of a cookie cutter
I think I’ll skip today’s dose
In an instant, the vial’s been flicked to the side,
Perpetually,
Two beats behind,
The inscription,
It catches my eye
SIDE EFFECTS: impulsivity
Loose lips twist into a smirk
A smooth descent, a silent landing
Shielded by the shade of the planters' leaves
Pills that to a passerby could pass as seeds
Maybe if I give them my gulp they’ll grow into a tree
Bloom and blossom into everything you beg of me