If I Were

If I were to brush my teeth,
I would vomit. I would choke,
and then I would cry
and choke some more –
because I do that when
I cry. So instead I will close
my eyes and pretend to sleep.
I once heard if you pretend
hard enough, it comes true
in your mind. Logic tells
me that I will sleep. If
that does not work,
I will watch old musicals
and sing along with the wrong
lyrics. But you won’t know –
no one will know – because
I will do it alone. And if this
does not satisfy my blurring mind
I will occupy my hands. I will strum
at my guitar until the frets
drip with blood, until my fingers
are reduced to stubs. If still I find
I cannot think, I will take a bath.
In this bath, I will reach down my throat
and let my arm sink down until
my hand grips my heart. And I will pull it
out.