liberation

knowing and controlling

...it’s liberation

when you can’t hurt them anymore

…it’s liberation

when your madness can’t destroy every second of every day anymore

…it’s liberation

when you’re tired of searching for answers

…it’s liberation

when it hurts to breathe

…it’s liberation

when you’re looking in the eyes

of the lives you destroyed

and the past is the past

and you can never go back

…it’s liberation

when whiskey is the only way

to get through the day

…it’s liberation

controlling how and when

the pain will end

…it’s liberation

death has its privileges

Anna K Peters

whiskey

it burns at first

the whiskey she drinks

their empty bottles line

the corners of her closet

waiting to be tossed

she wonders whether

they’ll find them when she’s gone

what they’ll think

of her

and then she remembers

by then

she’ll be bured somehwere

and she doesn’t care

death has its priviledges

Anna K Peters

worn down

The tread is worn
it bleeds
though no one sees
her certain collapse

Her death is heavy
yet flat. They ask why and how
still missing it. Missing her.
Wasted life.

She lived til she didn’t
shades of gray
ate her away
til nothing but death

was left.

Anna K. Peters

the Unknown

It’s always at the back door
clamoring around like some dingy sweater you only wear
when everything else
is dirty.
The one that makes you feel like everyone else
is looking at you
like you’re
dirty.
It’s that feeling
waiting to get in
feeling like a mountain of sin
rotting flesh and sickness
its stench rings in your ears and
rides on your back.
We run from it,
which only brings us
closer to it.
The past,
the present,
the unknown