If you take a bottle of hairspray
And hit yourself in the head with
It, even if you do it as hard as you can
It won’t do much. It’s a physiological
Response our minds tell our bodies not
To injure ourselves – like it’s really hard

To knock yourself unconscious with
A baseball bat or golf club; your arm
Just won’t want to get enough momentum
And even though you are trying really
Hard will probably not make sufficient
Contact with your skull to kill yourself.

That’s why I like drinking.
It’s sure fire. It’s slow – hell –
It’s a marathon to get there – but if
You are persistent with at least
A twelve pack a night – throw in
Some meth and coke and smoke

Lots of cigarettes, I estimate you
Will achieve the desired result
In five to ten years – and the best
Part? Your body can’t even fight back.
It has no idea how to protect itself.

Now, a final thought. Of course
You could do the real thing. Of
Course you could slit your wrists
Drive into a tree, put your head in
An oven – but really, what is the fun
In any of that. If you are going to go
Out – at least ruin your reputation doing it;

Have sex with as many guys as you can
Who don’t love you and maybe get sick
From it. You might as well lose your job
And alienate your loved ones… they
Will get used to it. By the time you
Finally go… they might even say –
It’s for the best; she was only
Hurting herself. And hurting

All of us.


I Can’t Be


Ic an’t b e th e thing th e goo d
Wo man, i am s o ver y bro ken
In pa in, doub led o ver, stink ing
Of bee r, of ciga rett es, i jus t vom
Ited out the car doo r, but im com
Ing ba ck f or m ore; su re, I’ ll ha
Ve an other bee r, ma ke su re ther e
Is ano ther, the re ha s to be anot her
I’l l ha ve one ha lf dra nk, i do n’t
Ca re; any thing, a sh ot of vod ka?
Gi ve me that hal f smok ed cig ar
Ette, fu ck it, i’ ll smo ke it, di d u
Fin d me a bee r yet? Ah, eve n bett
Er le’ts ma ke out, I’ll dan ce like
A slut, and we’ll sh are you r bott
Le of tequi lla th en lat er at 5 am
Pa ss ou t. La ter at 6 am vom it
My gut s ou t. Lat er at 7 am ca
Ll in si ck to wo rk. Later at 8 am
Dri ve ho me sti ll dr unk. La ter at
9 am ha te my self so viol entl y
F or kiss ing y ou, I’ll wa nt to
Rip my o wn l ips o ff.


La Magnolia y La Pera

Kahlo, 1945


All white things are not only white
some explode with asexual frivolity in

The Sonoran desert twilight. Some faint at
the mention of Alejandro’s thighs,

While some carry the pride of orgasmic
delights at the hands of feminists on

Their vagina, on darkly nippled breasts
fluttering petals making erect my skin

As if I were bequeathed as a child to Georgia—
no a un viejo, gordo, infiel who goes by the name

                                                                  of Diego.


Elisabeth Horan is an imperfect creature from Vermont advocating for animals, children and those suffering alone and in pain – especially those ostracized by disability and mental illness. She has work at up at Barren Magazine, Moonchild Magazine and Elephants Never. Elisabeth is honored to serve as Poetry Editor at Anti-Heroin Chic Magazine. She recently earned her MFA from Lindenwood University and received a 2018 Best of the Net Nomination from Midnight Lane Boutique.

Follow her @ehoranpoet &