A twelve-pack of razor blades, some Marlboro reds
– no filters. Watered down Jack Daniels and ripped
love notes from someone who won’t look at me.
Julien Baker smiling, singing about bathroom sinks.
Cracked iPhone screen, glass shards inside my skin.
Slow piano and scattered picks as I sing I miss you,
I’m sorry. Pill bottles. Medicines I can’t pronounce.
Therapists try to speak to me – “what about God?”
Video games. Endure and survive. New tattoos.
Romans 13:12. Ruined thighs. Scarlet ink.
Crimson tissues. Trash cans filled with tears,
and crumpled papers, maybe some blood as
I stick my finger down my throat to feel the tension deep
inside. I bubble up every sickness and I expel them at once.
Jessie Ford is a 19 year old, creative writing major at Murray State University. She loves writing in every medium, though she dreams of creating a film one day.
Serotonin 