The Benefit of the Doubt

I am so lonely 

that I am talking to myself 

in the car 

like a 

madwoman 

not because of a dearth 

of friends 

but because honesty 

has turned into 

the gravel of the graveyard

in my mouth

and I can’t lay down

the shroud 

of my thoughts

any longer like a weighted blanket

to press upon

each of you

there is no

justice 

in the burden of it

except in carrying it myself 

by myself 

steeping

the heavily taxed

tea of suffering 

and drinking from the cup

is different

than choosing to injure others

there is no one

remaining 

to whom I can speak

now that my tongue 

has turned black

I hope

that you may be giving me

the benefit

of the doubt

that you think

I am a kind executioner 

who destroys 

imaginary worlds

softly.