poison, confined. by Eliana Vanessa

drank everything away, 

no reason to call the doctor,

took care of all my problems 

when i handed the devil

the gun in my dreams.

love ain’t what it seems,

when you’re 

changing the litterbox 

of your own mind,

blindly calling the cat a deity,

better to write bad poetry

than to delude oneself 

with the notion

that there is

any hope for escape 

and let the skull of every 

recurring nightmare

bleed toxic.

Eliana Vanessa is originally from Argentina and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana at a young age.  She recently participated 100,000 Poets for Change (2018) and served as part of a panel of poets in The Jane Austen Festival (2017, 2018, 2019).   You can find her work online at The Horror Zine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Sirens Call Ezine, The Ramingo’s Porch, Ariel Chart, Beneath the Rainbow, and Fearless.  Her poetry appears in two recent anthologies: Masks Still Aren’t Enough (2019) and Americans and Others (2019). She is Eliana Vanessa on Facebook at the following link: https://www.facebook.com/eliana.vanessa.7758.