Clonazepam, Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam, if you've been acquainted with benzodiazepines,
Then you will know the hassle that I hearby mean.
Names so crazy it's like they fit your mind,
Yet without them they can be so unkind.

Clonazepam, Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam,
Tiny little pills, oh how you can truly and seriously help me to heal!
Yet, you make us happy as we should be without you to feel,
Because I'd rather remember you as an old friend who was there for a while to keep me "still".

Clonazepam Lorazepam, Diazepam, Alprazolam...
I know it's hard to say goodbye,
So for now I'll just say "goodnight",
And maybe one day I'll see without you-
the true happiness of daylight.*

❥

We always looked so happy but I’m starting to realize we never were. Maybe we were lonely and that’s why we said our “i love you”s . Maybe all the words were empty because I know for sure the promises were. This pain can’t be explained. When you love someone so much, it makes you vulnerable. I gave him everything I had. Every hope, every pain, I showed him my entire past, and I welcomed him into my entire future. I gave him so much.. but he gave me just enough to get by. The stupid part is, I still love him more than life. My heart ******* aches with his absence and it will only get worse with time. We could fix this. We could work together and make this better but he isn’t ready. He isn’t ready for anything. Everything I do is with good intentions for him, but where does that leave me? So so so utterly devoted to a man who won’t take a simple risk to save our relationship. He says he doesn’t know who he is and he is still figuring it out, but he knows one thing for sure. He is certain he wants to be with me. Yet how in the **** should I believe that? He changes his mind like the weather. One minute he loves spring and the next he wants to be frozen to the winter floor. But does he realize that whatever he chooses, I will be there too? If he wants flowers and sunshine then that is where we will go. If he wants to freeze in the snow, well then I guess I will be just as cold. He needs his privacy and time to himself. He needs structure and to have rules to follow. He says he want a forever, but he puts no effort into creating one. I want to go with him, no matter where it may be. But it seems to me he would much rather leave on his own. Why can’t he think of me for once. Why does he think it is okay to leave me in this burning hell without him. How is this called love. How dare we smile and pretend things are okay when in reality I can’t even breath. I have given this man so much of my heart and I have look past every odd quirk he has, yet he can’t give me what is best for us both. This relationship was all I had left. These pictures were my favorite. But its all down the drain now. He was my everything, my future. But now all I see in my future is a bottle of clonazepam and a nice warm bath, praying my body liquidizes enough to flow down the drain with all these emotions.

Klonopin Clonazepam Sintonal Diazepam
Refill my Rivotril Don't spill my Risolid
Alprazolam Bretazenil Bromazepam Lexotanil
Dadumir Olcadil Nobrium Stilny
Halcion Hypnovel Tavor! Tavor! Tavor!
Gimme gamma-aminos but only if they're butyric
With Xanax as my hand ax; Anxiety, *This is War!

Do I take a clonazepam
Do I take a seroquel
Do I take the new antipsychotic
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
If i smoke **** do I long term fertilize my paranoia
Is there a way to live without sedation
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
Agitation
Irritation
Sensitivity
Anxiety
Paranoia
The collective static of the tension spots

Internal screaming
Waiting for the clonazepam to kick in

I cannot keep this
This fruitless ache
This pounding in my head

There go my blades
At their works
****** arts!
Sign the dotted line in blood
Your blood!

We try to bleed it out!
each droplet an hour of agonies
crimson muck
We cried but in vain
This depressive, this manic
This open raw wound
to which everyone spits in
For tis that which they doth not see
Oh so blind to!

Therapies, forsooth! a worthless pastime
Clonazepam, Quetiapine
Dampen the mood, quieten the voices

A mind torn asunder
for of winter snow
and summer thunder
a body I do plunder
to rip out these demons
exorcise these ghouls
claw out these ghosts

This cannot be glorified
it is not beautifully broken
but tearing oneself apart
to remove the ashes in my head

Borderline personality disorder
Post traumatic stress disorder...

never rub another man's rhubarb.

so this article comes along
about aya-huskie,
****... what was it?
                              ayahuasca
and i'm reading it,
and i'm reading into it,
and i'm like:
     it's not unusual for 100+
ceremonies ingesting
this drug happen in new york
on a daily basis...
****'s more potent that
corresponding a war...
   the female enegry *madre:
hocus pokus
          harry houdini
       eating a pear as a magic
            trick *******...
nope...
   i'm fine my beer, my love
of home-cooked food,
my music...
       what am i implying?
   the ****'s contaminated -
just like the beatnik poets
contaminated peyote...
contaminated, how?
  they wrote about it...
who the **** is going to moan
and complain about me
writing about drinking?
                           um... no one?
the brew is so abused that
when sometimes comes
along and writes about its
effects, in a positive way:
you don't really start moaning...
all those soppy:
  papa was an alcoholic type
stories...
   mama drank a bottle
of wine before putting me to bed:
too bad *******!
    live with the fact,
that somewhere, somehow,
there's a drunk who could
juggle a monkey, a tambourine
and banana:
  and call it a musical instrument!
you ingest something
for a sense of humour -
or you ingest something for
a sense of wonder...
aya-hoo-haha-caska
   is of the latter category...
alcohol?
            ugh: the former!

and to be honest?
    the only and at the same
time the most spiritual experience
i ever had or will have:
will remain:
          hearing myself laughing.
that's it!

the sort of laugh imitating a fox,
the sort of laugh imitating muttley,
and the laugh that feels
like easing a **** of crunching
the stomach...
      the visionaries can keep their
discontent with dreams,
and experience them wide-awake...

but reading this article is numbing...
always the ******* westerners,
the white "bad boys",
what they'll do with ayahuasca
is what they did with cows, pigs,
dogs and cats...
   they'll domesticate the drug...
oh look... already domesticated
being categorised as a drug, rather
than the original of: medicine...

and that's what western society does...
find me a shaman using
alcohol and i'll find you a pair
of scissors in an ayahuasca experience...
but i just hate the idea
of domesticating something so
spiritually governed...

people really think that taking this
drug, in the centre of new york
will somehow create an actual
organic potency of the drug?
          in new york the experience
will be inorganic -
        and most probably horrific -

well **** me: jump off a roof and
hallucinate a pair torn off icarus!
    up here, in the hinterlands,
in catholic schools,
   they still told us what the ukrainians
used to do: sniff glue
   (can i recommend a film?
    lilya 4-ever) -
       or don't get me strated with poles
drinking purple denaturat,
     (denatonium, methanol -
                         in short? toxins!) -

personall i don't like the idea where
this ahaya ahooya, whatever thing is going...
to me it has a scent of a process
of domestication...
        but i suppose if you're going
to deforest the amazon,
    you also have to attack the spirit -

now that i've read about the experience,
i'm rather keen on trying to
unravel the problem of antidepressants:
also in the same newspaper...
   namely escitalopram (lexarpo)
  & sertraline & clonazepam
  & paroxetine (seroxat) - all of them being
anti-depressants; so no:

i wouldn't disturb the amazonian shamans
for some "bogus" life-changing
experiences, i'd look at the situation where
drugs have moved beyond the stage
of being domesticated from their natural
environment... and... therefore?
                                    industrialised!

talk to random schizophrenic in the middle
of a night over a kalimotxo (basque drink,
red wine and coca-cola - kali kali kali
m'oh ch'oh) -
and he'll tell you: yeah, knew a guy,
was on antipsychotic medication:
                                 grew a pair of ****!

oh yeah, tobacco & alcohol are baaah!
baaah! bad! (please invoke a sheepish
stutter within the confines of the italics).

Fui al manicomio no recuerdo por qué,
debieron sorprenderme asustándome;
de las bacterias que se comen mi piel,
antiguos fantasmas que no superé.

Llevo varios años sintiendo ansiedad
escalofríos y abstinencia social.
Me dijo el doctor que todo iba a mejorar
y creí ciegamente en el Clonazepam.

En el manicomio la comida es lo peor
no usan sal ni para el arroz;
En el manicomio solo algo es verdad,
Benzodiacepinas hasta en el pan.

Con su tratamiento nos dopan nos encierran
No pueden curarnos sin los pies en la tierra
En el manicomio la soledad es lo que toca
todo esta mal el sistema se equivoca.

I want to be on the sunrise high at the skyline
i want to be comfortable alone in my time
sky time why time
lifeline
im floating roaming and zoning
fully rowing
my boat down the stream
cbd thc and clonazepam
thoughts quietly racing im silenty pacing
tasteful smoke freestyle on a techniclour kudasai
dont ask my why dont ask me to try
dont ask me' to walk when i can fly
floaty dont want to overdo it or overdosy
just wanna be cosy
we're all void fillers
void killers
lonely poetry
hidden masks on my face i dont divulge or they'll know its me
analyse the dirt and you will find the gems in these lines
the gems i had to go through alot to find
i had to mine
chip away at my old self
and yeah i am not back to my old health
and i got me some more wealth
bandaid on my poor self
money isn't happiness word to marley



nostalgia for things ive never had
it makes me sad
maybe some company by the skyline,
we can be poor we dont need wealth
lets be happy
thats a dream
maybe it doesnt exist
ill give it a hit
or maybe a miss
or maybe a kiss
nostalgia
not stall gear
stalling on the lonely road im on
im in a different space
maybe its trauma maybe its more ah
maybe its coz im a may baby and im way crazy
but i dont believe in the star sign *******
i know theres cosmic energies
i know theres an upper entity
thank you god


have you ever felt things you can describe
cant believe and cant deny
cant trust and cant part with eith-
er