In my left brain there are reasons to give in to my worst impulse,
there are statistics for my lack of future, there are unreachable numbers,
and rows of violent images that clot in my brain: the pin of limbs,
the sweet slip-away of Ativan, that cool blue fog descending heaven-like.

In my right brain there are reasons to live, there are endless glimpses
of beautiful things, a mirage of a small house sparkling on the coastline,
a garden bloated with fattened roses, a dog lapping up August wind,
a lover with her body outlined by twisting veins of gold sunglow.

In my left fist there is the collected bones of the woman I could’ve been,
her dazzled grin now pockmarked, blackened like bad fruit, her body ruined,
her once lovely brain puddling out of the cavity of her mouth. She was perfect,
they’d say, she could’ve been perfect without revealing the bruises.

In my right fist there is the hand of the child I was once, blue eyes on fire,
hair vanilla-white, skinned knees and painted smile glittering from upside-down
as she once dangled off the side of the bed, making herself motion sick.
She would spin and spin in circles, spin and spin and spin and spin.

In my left lung there is a pool of coughed-up vomit, bubbling yellow regrets
swimming in the image of the white bathroom tiles, head spun off-axis.
I am disgusting, there is no God that would touch me, much less save me,
with a hand down my throat, reaching to grab at the oozing heart.

In my right lung there is a pool of cold Normandy ocean water, circa 2023,
my exchange-student partner glimmering in the reflection as it ripples 
with lines of kelp and tides of shells called couteaux in French or knives in English.
My mouth kisses the blade of a foreign tongue, a foreign tempting tomorrow.

In my left ear there are sirens haunting the noon, shrill heartless wails 
painting the air cross-red and cop-blue, and the lonely empty tones 
of heartbeats tracked on a monitor, the lines raising and raising
and staying far too fast, abnormally racing and breaking and falling.

In my right ear there is only my mother’s softened heartbeat
ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing.