the white pain cream in the pink tupperware container on the second shelf in the upstairs bathroom, the CBD oil an ex bought on the shelf below, the apple cider vinegar for shots like that college roommate recommended on the middle shelf of pantry that’s a little too tall, the epsom salts, lavender scented, under the upstairs sink, the prescription pain killers stolen from a different ex downstairs, the heating pad under the couch, hopefully unplugged, the half empty bottle of red wine on top of the fridge, the chocolate from the gas station still open on the kitchen counter, the six pack of beer in the fridge behind the empty take out containers, the unfilled refill prescriptions for medicines that didn’t work, the vials of essential oils an old friend mailed in the downstairs medicine cabinet, the advertisement for the essential oils that that friend is selling on the desk upstairs, the ibuprofen pills lingering in the bottom of the backpack amongst textbooks and pencils, the number for that doctor a friend recommended on the fridge door hung with a magnet, the number for another doctor another friend recommended stashed under the junk mail in the tv stand’s middle drawer, the number for a different doctor a different friend recommended in the pocket of the laptop bag on the couch, the number of yet another doctor a stranger in the grocery store  recommended on the nightstand, the insurance card that doesn’t cover any of those doctors in the wallet on the kitchen table, another bottle of Tylenol on the dresser next to the mirror and collection of necklaces that never get put away, the half empty bottle of white wine next to the dishes that never get put away, the recommendation of a home remedy from a friend in the text messages on the cellphone resting on the bathroom counter, the recommendation of a different home remedy from a well meaning stranger in the inbox on the computer, the other numbing lotion on the back of the toilet next to the candle that’s supposed to smell like pine trees and make you forget all of this 

Day 1 of NaPoWriMo: Write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances.

My metaphor was I suppose trying to soothe nerve pain and all the weird ways and things I’ve done or currently have and do.

5 thoughts on “when your nerve pain flares up, try one of these:

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