The News

Today’s top story:
the state of my mind is shot.

I’m not sure if it’s the medication or
the pink pills I’ve tapered off from,
but this disaster is sinister and tasteless.

Police say the shooting was self-inflicted.
It occurred on the east side of the city
last night around 1 am.
One suspect was apprehended.

I told police I was already in jail,
that taking me in would make no difference.
They said, Yeah right, buddy, as
they shackled my wrists and
shoved me into the backseat of the cruiser.

Prosecutors are confident
this will be an open and shut case,
that the assailant and victim
will be tried as one.

I sat uncomfortably in the courtroom as
six dark suits determined my fate.
It was illegal to destroy my own consciousness.

And in other news,
my brain is craving hues
of cerulean now, new heroes
that won’t lose.

Tune in next time for more breaking
stories from your most trusted news source.

Maybe I’ll crack open my cranium
so you can prod the insides.

Worse Than Death

There are things worse than death.
They come in the form of torture.
It’s the cloak that steals your breath
but comes in a shade of luster.
One by one each loving member
of my family meets their end.
Some bitter.
Some tragic.
One called for celebration
and one called for seance.
No one ever tells you
that each death compounds the other.
No one ever tells you
it’s like carrying each body
on your shoulders
as you carry on with life.
You have to figure out on your own
to let wind dry tears,
to stack each body anyway
until you can barely walk,
until the last bone in your body breaks,
the moon crumbling and losing luminescence,
the final filament fading.

Alexander P Garza is a Mexican-American poet from Houston. His work has appeared in Toyon, Indianapolis Review, Dissections, Star*Line, and others. He is a graduate student in the Program for Writers at the University of Illinois — Chicago. Visit him on Instagram/Twitter (@alexanderpgarza) and his website.

Read more of Alexander here.