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Tanner Mar 11
Xanax in my drawer.
Correctly prescribed, yet unwanted.
Waits for me in a childproof container.

The moon, through my window panes, illuminates my room.
Aside from the most geometric corners of blackness.
My anxiety pains through my dreams.
Prompting me to stay awake.

The moonlight bounces off my nightstand drawer's brass handle.
Where the Xanax rests.
Where I could rest.

No pleasure in falling asleep.
When the only way possible is to stumble into it.
High and depraved.

One pill doesn't work, only two.
And I'm off to the moon.
Finally asleep, but not in control.
There's a reason we haven't gone back.
Martin Narrod Oct 2019
Justin I forgive you, won’t you call me, your birthday must be coming soon we haven’t spoken since we moved our family into the desert. I just pray you’re not seeking cotton fever yet again, chasing the dragon, or at the very least eating school buses while falling into ‘H’ before you find yourself in bed drunk again, and on Ambien too. Dead too soon. You’ve always wondered why I didn’t introduce you to Ryan, my other incredibly dear and brotherly friend. Well wonder none more, he’s in a padded room at Mt. Sinai in Lakeview or perhaps Northwestern’s adult care unit, there was talk or at least I imagined he could make it to Lakeside Manor right there East of Foster. So it’s clemency, peace of mind, and something to loosen the edge off your back, something to let you fall, something to set your pain at weightless your mind at I-Don’t-Have-To-Give-A-****-Anymore, my friend where have you been? Where have you taken yourself? Please drag yourself back at least a half-step, reverse your position and engineer an out please. I can’t begin to accept losing both of my brothers to two versions of the same disease.
I'm standing in a small living room, dead center. My family and even some people I don't know, all proud Mexican people, stand around me.

I don't know why, but this memory is blurry and filled with static.

Some buzzing, angry voice cuts my ears. The sound a sharp, electric squeal. It hurts less as I get used to it, but I've been used to it. My ears tune the squeal and I know this sound. My uncle maybe. To be honest I can't remember.

My mind drifts off.

I blink in the light from the projector. Words flash across a sterile screen, something about an opioid overdose. First aid training presentation. I sit in a chair that's too small for me. My hips feel bruised.

Someone in class answers a question but I'm barely paying any mind. I can't stop thinking about drugs. I read the words in our follow along study guide earlier and now I can't get it out of my head...my head.

The hum turns into a low rumble.

I glance over to where it's coming from, the corner of a ****** apartment, the rumble creeps through the wall until it hits the sliding door to the balcony. Lightning bolt. I'm tripping acid somewhere I used to live.

I know I'm not there though. Just more flashbacks. Just more memories of things that feel good.

The phone rings.

I'm in my car, my cousin hesitates through the phone. My grandpa has cancer. I don't know how to feel because I've been avoiding him. I try to feign distress. Maybe make him think I'm not a terrible person for not knowing if I'm supposed to care…

I know I feel something. My stomach feels uneasy, like it always does. Except right now it feels uneasy like it usually doesn't. I tell him I need to hang up. I do. But it feels like a lie. I am self centered.

I am quiet.

The living room full of brown skin and brown eyes, red spit. They yell at me. My uncle's make fun of me for being ashamed of my skin. My last name is Montejano, but today my thirteen year old self has disowned my family. I'm tired of being called immigrant at school.

My cousins are solace, peace. I'm sure one of them told, but they pretend they care and some of them mean it. I am the bully in my family, I see them and I wonder if I even deserve my brown skin.

The memory sort of fades as I listen to the talking in front of me. Projector playing a slideshow. Things I should be writing, things I know. My right index finger is cut by a glass I'm washing in the sink.

The wound is large. I can see loose tissue while I wash it out. We find duct tape and some paper towels from the burgers we had last night.

I snort xanax. I'm outside.

Someone's playing guitar, I'm looking at the ceiling. It's just a memory but it feels so good.

My grandpa is in the driver's seat of a semi truck. We are passing a massive golden spire surrounded by trees. Somewhere near Maine or Virginia. As I try to remember the place we were, his face fades. His black hair is grey. And I don't remember it.

We're sleeping at a truck stop where he warns me not to open the doors at night. I don't sleep.

I step out of my dad's pick up truck a week later and it's the first time I experience perspective shifts, his truck isn't as big as my grandpas.

This is the first time I realise how small I am.

I'm pulling into a parking space as I get home from work. I can't remember how I got here.
Kris Fireheart Sep 2019
Yes I can,
Take your hand,
Smile like a fool,
And say "Isn't life grand?"
And we can plan,
With Lady Xan...

Stressful days,
Sleepless nights,
Can't catch a wink
For the sweat and fright,
When I feel like,
I've lost the fight...

The pleasant sound
The bottle makes,
I toss it in my palm,
Like an old mistake,
And wonder how
Many should I take?

A little here,
A little there,
A little in the middle
Of my Anywhere,
And I can breathe,
This stagnant air...

But when she's gone,
Trouble brews,
Feeling such a pain
I never thought I knew,
What to do?
What to DO?

With Lady Xan,
The lowest hand,
Feels like a gift
From a wonderland,
And yes I can,
With Lady Xan.
Xanax.  My bane,  my curse,  my savior.
"But you need a prescription to get Xanax."
The internet told me
Maybe ibuprofen,
Lying in the cabinets?
I don't need more drugs to get me high
Medicines are legal, right?
So I'm sitting here again
Looking for Legal drugs
Teens get high on
Because I regret
Throwing my drugs away
A poem evey day.
CryBaby Di Jul 2018
"Xanax for the pain inside my brain,
temporarily easing off of the full throttle gas petal that drives me insane.
Almost silencing all of the screams ,
and repetitive voices of my own self conscious, blaming self for all of my
regrets and broken dreams.
The calming of my ugly inner demons,
abusing me with the ways of their
constant torture..

I am still my own worst enemy,
and always will be,
evermore.."
.
VOID Jul 2018
I know it's wrong
but I can't get rid of you
I know I should move on
But you taste to good
the rush
the high
you fill this void that i struggle to even mention
you fill this void that i try to hide from everyone
and i can never get enough
I can never leave you behind
because you were there for me when nobody was
you helped me sleep at night
you helped me make friends
you helped me when nobody could
thank you Xanax
but this is a good bye
you almost took my life
you stabbed me in the back and left
when I tried to break away you reminded me of my faults
you dragged me into my casket and wanted nothing good for me
you got me *****
you got me almost killed
you got me hospitalized
you tore my family away from me
I can't even have a relationship without you ruining my chances
Xanax, I loved you
but all things come to an ended
I have out grown you
passed you
I need a break from your temptations
I am sorry
but I chose my life
sadgirl Feb 2018
o, darling
daylight has never been your most flattering
light

and how could it be?
you never sleep,
because life is but a dream

like that old
children's song
goes

dear god of boujee
women, the ones with
bloodstained louboutins

let me autotune myself to sound inhuman,
say my prayers to
you

in the dying light
of the atl
freeways

my only hymn i have to
offer is that of
migos

and instead of bread and wine
i have lean and
xanax

o, darling
our eyes will never
age

and new money, who dis?
will forever be the closest thing
we have to a mantra
Gang gang.
FrankieM Jan 2018
Can't tell if it’s my vision blurring or my head is vibrating from the music I'm blurting.
I just can't hear my thoughts over the bars he spits and the bars I swallowed.

Things seem much better now that my head feels hollow.
On almost crashing my car while on Xanax.
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