Love is pain
Pain is love
This never ending cycle
You look in the mirror
Pain is on your shoulder
Love is in your memories
Pain is on your wrist and forearm
Love is there too
In the form of thousands of little scars
Love comes and goes
But pain is your best friend
Never to leave you
Not until the end
Love is your desire
In the form of a little pill
Pain loves me
The grip on my disposable razor
Is tighter than the grip of my own reality.
Reflection distorted by the humid condensation,
I still see my hands trembling as I shave.
I still see the designer bags under my eyes.
The familiar aroma of shaving cream,
Paired with the sobering twinge
Of the nicks from my razor.
The haphazardly spilled pills,
Horizontal bottles in the medicine cabinet.
White-knuckling the porcelain sink,
Decorated with dried toothpaste and the blood of my gums.
I reflect to my reflection
Distorted by drip drops of tap water,
“Am I still myself?
Or simply a prospect of my own delusion?”
It's 10:00 at night and it's been at least a half hour since you've eaten something. You make your way to the kitchen, empty bowl in hand. You place the bowl with the dirty dishes and the world slows down as you turn to see the small container with your name on it...
I hate it.
You grab a glass of juice and stare at the container down. As if the black that so neatly stamps your name could stare back. You open the kid proof cap and pour out half its contents into your dominant hand.
Just to feel the weight of death in you dominant hand. "Take 2 twice daily." They said.
The half orange, half yellow capsules still in my palm. Feeling the plastic-like coating I feel like I could crush in 2 seconds flat.
This, is when the protagonist eats as many pills as her body will allow, when she gives in, when she dies. This movie is almost over...
Nobody else is awake, it's just you and your handful of pills.
This movie goes on, the protagonist will live.
You-- are not built on a mountain of clichés and stereotypical archetypes.
And still alive!
You pour the pills back into the container, with 4 still left in you hand. You take 2 but you still feel like it's stuck in your throat, so you eat something small to force it down. Even though these pills are supposed to be take on an empty stomach...
You get a glass of water, and set that aside with the 2 remaining pills for tomorrow morning.
Now go to sleep, make sure this protagonist lives to take the Hollywood medication tomorrow.
it's ether this or Oatmeal you guys.
I wanna re-roll my character.
it never stops
i'm going mad you see
the pain has me in entrapment
i feel i'll never be freed
the pills mask the hurt
from the inside out it seems
i've built a tolerance so i always need more
who knew an addict would become of me
each refill is a look
a lecture from the pharmacy
humiliated as i hide the bottles in my purse
no, this is not stephanie
it began as a necessity
a true deserving need
but out of fear of future operations
i'll do almost anything
it's a secret
or is it something you can see?
my eyes are tired of throbbing pain
because of a disease of rarity
no one understands
so i stage act who i used to be
give her an Oscar tell her what she's won
behind this brain's brutality
to run from fear
is to fear reality
stuck between a nightmare
and a dream
what's happened to me?
and tell them not to do the same
although i row oars in the same boat
and it makes me so ashamed
(C) Maxwell 2017
I slip and fall, behold the water all around, this daze, the overlit tiny
space, hospital, looking at me, doctors piercing gaze.
This is it! I feel their needles pierce my side, fill me with that which
will put out my lights.
I scream and in a rush they tilt my head back and let the pills
go down my throat. I was the one who got myself trapped
by this modern castle moat.
Should have known better, but still I cry, this is it, I'll set fire
to the skies, and no one will ever again sing me sterile lullabies!
Covered the empty bed sheets
Vague memories burned into my skull
Like a flashing bulb
All pain is gone
Slipping into a near coma
From my FREE drug induced state
Speeding heart rate, and yet you,
Sifting through bottles
For that one last pill
To free your cowardly self
From having any free will.
i know what it felt like
before these chemicals stripped away my soul
and replaced it with duct tape
to keep me together long enough
until i figured out
that i am not special
i am not the only teenager in a room of 4 that has
tried to leave this world and wound up
under the same fluorescent lights that brought me in
there is no cure
there is no pill strong enough to tame my restless heart
threatening to kick its way out of my chest
the pills do nothing but make me forget
what it felt like to be sad
to be happy
to be anything at all
they stripped away my skin until i was just bones
and two hollow eyes
and now i write down everything
to forget nothing else
in case they make a pill to help me forget myself, too
That's what they'll say,
after you wreck your car
and spill your brains.
They won't know--
or maybe they will.
disguised as "wonderful daughter,
Everyone has earplugs,
The epidemic is supplying
some for you.
has some competition.
This ain't some new
it's not them.
unless it's them.
But it's too late by then.
A wave of people who all suffer from depression's undercurrent leans over me until gravity pushes the water over my head and I drown in the depressive maelstrom of lost, distraught family members with the same weak psyche which I suffer from. Only the dollhouse owners can live a picture-perfect life where everything is antibacterial and anti-depressant while we get jammed between the walls until we can no longer scream for help and tears become our only weapon. The moisture from the rivers that sourced in our eyes penetrates into the walls and seeps into the floor, then mold and mildew infects this otherwise perfect dollhouse. I'd rather drown in depression than live in this false cardboard house with drawers and cabins filled with pills and where no one knows who takes what and why there is constantly bought more and more even when the pills tumble out of all the doors. I'm waiting for a tsunami, which can split the dollhouse that I call my home, hoping the walls detaches and the pills flush away.