he
didn’t know
i was schizophrenic
& so
blurted out
you could shoot yourself
sending
my paranoia
to the muzzle
of a handgun
in my mouth
barrel
aimed vertically
upwards
to wonder
what i might feel
or
against my temple
&
what sort of mistake
that would be
but
unprompted
& more recently
it’s been the invitation
to steer my vehicle
across the road
into oncoming traffic
which
failed to concern my GP
not abnormal
he assured me
&
again i wondered

how many triggers are there?

First published August 2021 at ‘flashes of brilliance’
edited by Darren White
Poetry: mouth wash by Geoffrey Aitken - Flashes Of Brilliance