Content Warnings: PTSD, suicidal ideation, addiction
I.
sweat-soaked sheets linger in fever / sore belly swells giving birth / to a piecemeal version of me / expecting a dilemma in the mailbox / sits unopened like a sterile sewing kit / rushing to refrigerate / condensation and mad science drip / making sure the vials aren’t smashed / every two weeks / delivery drivers raise a little Lazarus in me / rotating injection sites / my poor belly and thighs / count to twenty, honey / pulling out the Humira pen / I wonder if I’ll have cancer from all the sewing / with a black box warning / still a grateful pincushion / no insurance, no resurrections / Winn-Dixie shoppers stare at my bruises / thinking of track marks / (though I’ve had a few of those, too) / both beat having frozen hips and hands in June / vomiting until my body is a thread / an autoimmune on autopilot / charting a course
II.
alarms and notifications singing / every Cricket riff and ringtone hits / searching for Mars and Jupiter / while ignoring the breakfast on my plate / Manic Monday pops through the speakers / by lunch break I’m the right hand of Jesus / writing prophecy for publishers in my Substack feed / psychiatrist calling in a Lithium increase / pressing a “do not disturb” button / my phone doesn’t sing this month / rolling and turning, tossing over / feeling itchy in every outfit / remember the terrible time when…spinning around an 8-track / doing this over and over and over again / too nauseated to chew / sleeping all day / wait for the plateau / a bipolar beacon / charting a course
III.
melting into a bubble bath / my opportunities burst with the bubbles / a tablet melts under my tongue / in the candlelight / distorting melancholia into fish / swim in my lake-sized hot tub / their veins are full of it / drowning in a foot of water / touching a rock bottom that sinks / a friend offering patience and stern love / feeling every rock under the ambulance tires in my sick bones / picking up a new prescription / taking a cure to cure a cure / taking accountability, too / wishing the medical system would / treat people like drowning victims / insisting a buoy be thrown to / an addict who authors her way out / charting a course
IV.
suffocating in the passenger seat / pressing the noise-canceling function / I sight-see behind my eyelids / veins of purple lighting / block out the sun creeping / around my gas station sunglasses / every car hits us head-on / semitrucks transport terror / a rattling under the hood amplifying / as loudly as the audiobook I blast / through unreliable headphones / whispering of screws and squirrels in the road / waiting to break more of my ribs and feet / interrupting a trip / ten years in the making / turning a decade into a crash and a war with myself / still not opening my eyes / but at least going for the ride / back seat driving / jumping at every brake / the suspense on audible doesn’t compete / seeking a doctor and last resort / the sovereign survivor / charts her course
Raised in Tennessee, Cassidy Primm (she/her) writes about the world as it is and as it could be. After studying English & Rhetoric, she struggled with autoimmune disease and bipolar disorder but began publishing again thanks to consistent medical care. Her work reflects this journey often. She is published in The Haiku Shack Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, and PoArtMo Magazine. Now living in New Orleans, she writes to provoke, encourage, entertain, and advocate, especially for those with chronic health issues. She enjoys walking by the Mississippi River with her partner and faithful four-legged proofreader.
Instagram: @and_thesundancekid
Facebook: @cassidyalexis
Substack: @andthesundancekid
Youtube: @the_sundance_kid