cronus

these serotonin reuptake receptors will swallow me whole

it’s funny how the chemicals in your brain are god

god and science aren’t incompatible but i don’t believe

in either one  when both mean i can’t choose first to be

happy  i don’t want it determined in a heaven of brain

cronus eats the children of my happiest moments

washes them down with milk and acid making my thoughts

race so fast when i say the wrong thing or when i wonder

if the people i care about  don’t care about me back

cronus is crazy-eyed and disk-mouthed when he forces

hestia happiness down his throat  not like all the little particles

they have in the science textbooks all tidy  eating is

violent eating is devouring like in the goya painting

cronus is an entropic cheshire grin behind a devastating

calm and a blinking face staring at the floor dissociating

demeter’s dynamism slips down the throat of disinterest

disengagement, disillusionment and devalued experiences

cronus! cronus swallows getting out of bed in the morning

cronus’s tongue is the heaviness of the sheets pinning me

to the roof of the mouth of the ceiling of my room under which

i am under like a night sky and cronus looks down as a god

cronus is the one who tapped holes in the cavities of the teeth

of my mind trying to chew together some semblance of a

normal childhood through which the traumas tickled a cracked crown

cronus came first and followed after with a dentist tool down my throat

cronus never said sorry for leaving my mind and escaping my skin

and mouth in puddles of blood and vomit on the bathroom floor

it’s funny how the chemicals under the sink won’t rinse the stains

on the door of my consciousness after cronus refused to let go

and at night when i feel wholly swallowed by the will of a god

of cronus who accepts nothing but the children of my today

i take two pills and stay up all night writing sonnets that try

to somehow link together these too many thoughts unswallowed

my serotonin reuptake receptors open their eyes and close their

mouths and listen to the poetry that i have to vomit and maybe

maybe today from the stomach of cronus i can come up too