Rx

I don't know how to heal
but I can write.
Nouns, verbs, adjectives, like sutures
knit my ragged flesh back into
something human.
Language, like a medicine,
taken in the right dosage at the appropriate
time.
My pen is a scalpel,
operating on that gangrenous abomination
that is rotting out my soul.
I put on my latex gloves and deputrify
my mind.
Words, like peroxide, burn me clean.