there are other girls like me
with debilitating caffeine addictions
and an allergy to calories
to whom feeling “ok” is fiction
whose emotions come only in extremes
soon enough everyone will realize
that i am nothing special
then they’ll leave and fantasize
about loving somebody else
Little boy, with killer spirit. Died eating a cashew.
This medication is called Trilafon or Perphenazine.
When I took it, I had the worst nightmare I've ever seen.
Life is something to be cherished.
But in December of 1996, I almost perished.
After my doctor wrote the prescription, I took the Trilafon.
If I hadn't been taken to the emergency room, I'd be gone.
Trilafon helps some people but it makes other people sick.
After taking this medication, I learned that I'm allergic.
I'd like to say it was all just a dream but it was real.
The doctors in the ICU saved me with Benadryl.
I foamed at the mouth and it felt like the Trilafon was burning out my brain.
I hope nobody else experiences this pain.
My doctor ticked me off when he wanted me to continue taking Trilafon with a side effect pill.
There was no way in Hell I'd keep taking it after being so ill.
Now I take a different medication and all is well.
It's much better to take Risperadol or Seroquel.
I was only twenty-five in 1996 and that would've been far too young to go.
If a doctor wants to prescribe you Trilafon, please say no.
This is a true story about what happened to me twenty-one years ago on December 7, 1996.
Is it worst case?
It will eventually end my life.
An allergy that would cost your life?
Yeah. Precisely. Totally.
May I know?
if my lips are red.
I had avocado (it does not agree with my body).
but proceed with caution.
if my lips are read.
Dickens was ******
through my nail-beds.
and is sprouting around my veins.
with the dew from his tongue and his alone:
i will open myself up freely to you,
like petals spreading from a bud-
only less graceful.
and not as Chaste.
quite ******, actually;
when my cells are fighting against a forbidden fruit.
- the alligator pear of mexico and birch pollen -
and my tongue is soaked in English verse.
It tastes sour in my skin
The water diverts his eyes upon the curves
I rub them with my fingernails
The tips cried for disturbance.
The pebbled stones in purity
Spit out their dirt with every moist
The need to exhale the longing days
The desolation of their own race.
It stinks with the cover of my skin
No vinegar to pour on the occuring reds
No tablet nor capsule to jive the tummy
There, I'll groove with the ratio of water.
I left the leaves on the dirt
And yes, those gravel and mated things in the sack
Alone am I, here in my own nest
Watching the faded stars and grasping the air.
Neither can I reach the ultimatum
The shutters in me were all aware and trained
The body in rest be put in silence
For the war of itch diverts the angle.
I want to lay in my bed
Next to you
At seven in the morning.
"Crepes." You say.
I get up
and start the crepe maker
I put out the Nutella
And cut bananas
And pull out the jar of lingonberries that
Even though nobody knows
What lingonberries are.
You ask for peanut butter
And we both know I'm allergic.
But I have a jar
Because I know that
You love it.
— The End —