The pills do not work like promised,
For the thoughts still remain.
They have accomplished little,
Other than to drive me insane.

I feel myself becoming emotionless,
The medication smothers my ability to feel.
It helps me to endure this situation,
But it allows no room to heal.

But these blue pills, at least they are something,
Something to ease my suffering.
These many bad nights have left me terrified,
For I am prone to shuddering.

Having hindered emotions
Is better than feeling anxious or depressed.
So I will take this treatment even if
Happiness also suffers in the pursuit of rest.

You call me broken, not knowing
That my hopelessness stems
From watching you lie to yourself
Over and over again.

What causes my suffering is
Having caught a glimpse of what is real,
And you, not understanding,
Trying to change the way I feel.

Going through thin sheets of todays
flipping pages - skip the guidelines
get straight to pictures like BOOM
quick gratification, emotion into your face
temples throbbing flashed
then soothing wave of indifference
press on the flash button,
drain the feeling aching
with absence but proud of it still.
Get your cold cereal in the morning
Follow up with sorrowful
Fate into oblivion
I'll pray for the bright grain
Of potential that once inspired me.

I threw the pills out today,
let them fly out the window
Will be greeting my anxious sister
With her eyes spinning out of context
In a few, but hoping she'll bring
her driven girlfriend along
I need to play with these passions
Can't spend another day in this swamp
Of passive submission
Gonna dance on the imaginary grave
Of my peace
Let the hell spin with heaven,
Nothing in between merging
At the edge of feeling
Too insane for the in-betweens.

Drug; he controls my brain.
He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire.

Adrenaline; he balances my stress.
He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise.

Dopamine; he regulates my focus.
He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task.

Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood.
He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions.

Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire.
He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss.

Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones.
He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him.

Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals.
He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.

Medication:
melting my secret
inside of me

Treatable, but
incurable.
Take one pill twice a day,
probably for the rest of your life.
There's no guarantee
on how many days, months, years
you've got left.
You could feel fine one week,
then have Death on speed dial the next.
Of course, they tell you the
survival rate is very high.
So you sit there in the dark,
but hey, you're alive, right?
The doctors don't use the word 'terminal'
when diagnosing you.
But, then again, they don't have to.

I was born with wounds in my head
they tell me I’ll be better and they give me pills
but oh, nothing takes you out of
me for you are stitched into my soul
like disease.
Sometimes I want to hide in my
mother’s womb and build
a fortress of all the tears we’ve cried
you and I
so there's a bed
and there’s our bodies intertwined
like homes that swallow the skies
and dance under the pouring rain
and during hurricanes
there’s a body and there’s another
there’s a pill and there’s the other
and there’s my dry mouth begging for
a drizzle, from your soul, boy.

**** medications.

I grow up in a generation of people using self medication to numb problems they make up in their head. So your parents didn't tuck you into bed and the food was shoddy when you were fed.
Comparing problems as if to win the ultimate prize of a future full of demise? Open your eyes and watch the sunrise, you are not the only one fighting, for we grow up in a generation of people self medicating. Lock arms with me to fight this mental war, reap the surprise of happiness, that's what you'll have in store.

It's a thick blue
awning, sludge and
sap. Wax trudging and
churning
in my
bowels.

I lay in the
bed, like some
sort of fat cat --
just eaten my fair share
of mice.

Disgust and
green, bubonic and
glee, can I
smile? Can I dial?

Can I
laugh. I've gotten
off the phone with
the quack.

Medication so
raw and sore like
boils redder than
dawn and more,
chinese red and
yellow ochre,
feed me nausea,
until it's
over.