Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

You’re scarring everybody’s face
for some small flicker of the truth
You’re ransacking your house
to relieve the heat of chaos
in your head–You’re eating all the
quiet you’ve gathered
for some small enduring pause
in the chatter that kills you
You’re beating like a feral thunderstorm
You’re beating like weather on fire
You’re cutting precious slits
into the walls
hoping that out there you can
catch your breath–

And I’m walking down a snow-dazed street
empty but not innocent

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