By: Alicia Dressman

My parents are fast asleep
I rise upon my feet
walk towards the bedroom door
under the dimming light
a plump young woman fading nightgown
hair down
arms like sausages
lips parted
out of my comfort zone
kitchen darker than before
cold plastic floor peeling in the corner
heart of hearts beating
is this right?
four white pills in a plastic bottle
full throttle nothing stopping me
do it now
a blue tumbler filled with water
tapping its toes on the counter
two handfuls of death
the agent and the channel
carrying down my throat
three sour swallows
followed by a silent pause
in bed again
still dark out
there’s nothing but hope
for six full hours
I just might not wake up again