no matter the drugs I dig my nails in
flinch when the needle touches a root
jaws open, yet without words,
breathing in a little desperately
what's this innocuous conversation
part of your plan to gut me open?
don't ask me any questions
I can't answer. don't grind me down
I am exposed to the root
a little wild in the eyes
just about ready to bite it.
Take two because I wrote another poem a long time ago about another Extraction, that time about the demise of a friendship. This time, however, I came up with this.