Perfume is my Only Hope

I’ve made the mistake again
rubbing my eyes with
traces of chili pepper juice
still left on my fingers.

Think pepper spray
or tear gas, lacrimogena,
lacrimae. Swallowing
a gallon of perfume into my nose
slowly clears up the sting,
lingering to creep & itch.

I wish chilies weren’t so delicious.
My own fault for having eyes,
my own fault for succumbing
to urges I should ignore,
blackening the senses
panicking, wanting more than anything
what helps.