Crazy is the medicine
as is what the body does
Blood let won't be of my own
Problems? Come find
my home, secluded precipice
Hold up your hand
still it of the trembles
willingly consign
worry at the cost of
all you own

Medicine, come fight me!
Split existence, split to wind.
I'm paper, aren't I?
The weaker of the two.
You're ink, aren't you?
You will do.

Medicate me
lay me down again
another night
where worries slip away
for moments before sleep
in an imaginary world
where logic falls apart
to an insanity I can keep

Don't leave me to my own devices
the same ones that cut up my arms
whisk me far away from my demons
just for the night
I'll be better tomorrow

My thoughts are dazed…
Claustrophobic and hazed.
I’m exhausted and unamazed,
Fatigueness of some kind, low from the natural high.
Thoughts in my mind are delusive and unkind.
Dizzy and feeling quite fizzy
Not in the mood for studying, excitement, and fun.
Sitting by my lonesome self just writing what I can process.
Head feels heavy, got me feeling a bit queasy
Uneasy
Zoned out and lost in my thoughts
Sun is out and the wind is harsh…
It’s skin prickling and dissatisfying.
My exhaustion is sickening.
Absolute death and no reason
No fret
But anguished in my enclosed mind
But no threat…

System overkill
Discredit and disregard
Explain but disagree and make it hard
Exhalation and permutation
Loss of existence and clouded perception

Obsessive minds and sniffed up lines
Excessive amounts and numbers you cannot even count.
Broken, ripped, torn, and outwardly worn.
A lost ghoul, selfish, and for more you mourn.
Poor and dead, not yourself, completely blacked out and unconscious in bed.

Overdosed on the ******’ pills, suicide attempts never work…
Let the meds pour…
Gone, so gone…
Just let the meds pour...

My depression
feels
as though
my heart has
turned
to stone
and sank my chest
so close to the ground that
I can feel the gravel
Scraping apart my raw skin
and as I float
helpless
between defeat
and perseverance, my
insides begin
to rot,
as though my
stomach acid has
crept through my veins,
disintegrating my
heart strings and
slowly consuming
my lungs
only enough so that
death seems promising
I welcome it
with open arms;
Beg for it.
And then,
I catch my
Breath
and
It begins again.

from skin to flesh
and blood to bone  
from sound to silence
and wind to dust
from book to page
and sharp to blunt
from food to medication
and a house to train stations
and years to an unforgivable  
day,
I wish to someone 'a good day'

-Kaya

Their eyes glance at me, I sense the awkwardness, what shall we say to him?

You see I'm the man next door who's mind who they say
has crossed the line , the Drs call it mental illness, I say that's a crime.

For it is true that I'm chaotic and rapant at times,  
creativity should be nurtured, not medicated and fined.

You see I'm the man next door who's seen as 'unwell' for they see the police take me to the cells.  

I tell you honestly that this is no curse, just a alternate state of mind, try opening your eyes, you maybe suprised.

Medicate me now!
I need relief and quickly
From torment internally
From wounds you can't see
I need your release
I am suffering
This is defeat
Medicate me.

I just can't out run this feeling
That comes at the end of my days
The creeping sums of my failures
Grip me hard and fast by the throat
Pills can offer numbness for now
So I take them liberally
But they're not a sort of answer
Just an artificial night's sleep

That pretty little pill that makes you feel so nice,
That pretty little pill that makes your heart like ice,
That pretty little pill that makes you numb and cold,
That pretty little pill that makes you feel young and old,
That pretty little pill in the bottle so yellow,
That pretty little pill that makes you so mellow,
That pretty little pill taken with a swallow of Jack,
That pretty little pill makes you never look back,
That pretty little pill in a count of 90,
When it runs out will you see what I see?