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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Forbidden” cc&d, v276 (the October 2017 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the book On a Rainy Day (the 2017 poetry, longer prose & art collection anthology)		get the 298 page poem, longer prose & art collection anthology as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book Language of Untamed Spirit the cc&d Sept.-Dec.2017 collection book		get the 4 page May-August 2017 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

I am writing on this Empty Notepad to Quell the Paranoia that all will be Lost Tomorrow.

Erica Ann Welch

I hate that animal.
The one that disregards my pursuit of a saner me, myself, and I.
And maybe someone who will love me on the weekend nights,
when they have nothing better to do. Nothing better to love.


I’’ll try not to trouble you during the interim of this poem,
but my thoughts of dying are not obsolete.
I’ll trail behind us with mop and broom for the spills
and the puddles of my mother’s tears.

The ads on the TV are hardly subliminal. The anti-depression commercials mock me.
A mother pushes her daughter on the swing
With a smile filled with tears and spiders and tells me:

“Lyrica may cause serious allergic reactions or suicidal thoughts...”
Swelling of the face
The lips
The tongue.
I wish my tongue would swell
so I would stop telling everyone
the dark thoughts I have of dying
when I get very very drunk, because nobody likes spiders.

Maybe if my lips were swollen you wouldn’t have kissed me,
just to never call again the next day.
But I keep checking my phone.

The cured school teachers ramble on about the ambiguous ways
in which I might die
until my ears beg my brain to douse them in acid.

They sound like robots
but at least they sound happy.

I just want to be happy.

The school teacher’s eyes are spider’s eggs- they burst and are born.
They run down her face as she tells me:
“Wellbutrin may energize people who were previously too depressed to act on suicidal thoughts...
...and a decreased ability to fight infections.”
Which to me sounds a lot like giving up.
I chime in with their catchphrase,
I think “I am ready”.

The newborn spiders have cloaked and enveloped me now
like my favorite comforter.
Am I a flawed human because the weight of the world is often too much to bear?
Just like how
sometimes I don’t feel like holding doors open for people.
It’s just a mood I’m in.

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