#adderall
Take the pill, the dopamine does call!
It's just another pill, after all -
But we can not deal with the crash,
so we'll take shots from the alcohol stash.
It's a repeated cycle, i must admit,
once you start, you cannot quit!
Once you swallow down even just one,
it's far too late, the pill has won.
Don't even dare quit, the price you will pay;
without the pill's power, happiness stays at bay!
Everything's boring - you can't get things done,
can't feel like you once did, before pills have won.
It takes all your happiness -forces it all out at once,
it feels great while you have it; but then later there is none!
No happiness left, no dopamine for me!
Your brain will lose control, I write this so you'll see!
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 12:16 PM UTC
I finally picked up my refill
And finally stopped running uphill.
I'd been out for days,
And was in a haze
That nothing could fix but my refill.
I finally refilled my meds, guys.
Last week I ran out of my supplies,
And I sunk like a brick
Into depression so thick
That it kept me from refilling my meds, guys.
At last I am back on my Adderall
And everything feels much more natural
I cleaned up the sink
And now I can think
About how good it is to have Adderall.
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 3:14 PM UTC
Won't you keep me dizzy so that I stop spinning
Out of all control when I'm alone
And won't you keep me busy so that I stop snoozing
All the day away when I'm at home
Sing to me, Sera
We're calling you back home
Prozie, Addie, all of our old friends.
Sing to me, Sera
Please don't leave me alone
I want to look at my life through your lens.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
Day 33, a review:
*Without it, I sit,
And if I'm bored, then I sleep.*
With it, I am up:
I look with wide open eyes,
Eyes that see the world
And all I could be doing.
I step with purpose,
Standing tall and confident.
I wake, take the pill,
Eat my food, drink my coffee,
And drive off to work
With an automatic smile,
And I sing along
To the songs I know by heart.
*Without it, I sit,
And if I must stand, I lean;
Dragging tired feet,
Holding a troubled tummy,
And wishing I'd wake.*
In the end, on these days off,
I find energy:
I discover the reserves
Of serotonin,
Dopamine and endorphins
That my body saved,
Keeping stored for "the future."
My brain slowly learns,
And the fuel to keep going
Isn't out of reach.
So on these days off,
I won't despair or decay.
I used to collapse,
Before I knew my full strength
And what it felt like
To set my mind and finish.
*So help me today,
God, let this Adderall work
To give energy
And to strengthen my body
For this scary four-mile hike.*
~didn't get my refill before leaving for vacation~
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
Pills handed to you that were foreign and strange
was all it took before you changed.
The outgoing person I loved now was cold towards me
I wondered how could that be
You were not the same
But who could I blame
For doing this to my sweet sister
My answer leads me to your mister
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
Electricity runs in my blood,
Painting the trees a more vibrant green,
Than the unburning eye can see.
The taste of the air.
The burn of ice in my lungs.
The charge under my skin.
The world moves in slow motion,
But my heart beats fast in my chest,
And I feel warmth run to my upper lip.
The red is startling,
Sends my mind into fright,
But I soon relish in the feeling.
Seemingly alive for the first time.
Seemingly dying.
The feeling of birth and death as one.
The feeling of life and decay as one.
The feeling of adrenaline and sleep.
My hands are shaking.
My hands are shaking.
I got blood on my sleeve.
I want it in my mouth.
I put the fabric in between my teeth
And ****
But I can taste no copper.
I am trembling,
The chalk lodged in my throat.
I am flying high,
So high.
And know it will pass.
I am Icarus flying by the sun
I am Daedalus, ashamed of his failure
My fingers do not craft wings,
But words.
Endless, nonsense words
That my mind deems sensible.
But I am Newton.
But all things must fall,
And gravity has it’s hold of me.
It never brings me down gently.
All things must fall.
Even stars must fall.
Even stars.
Even angels.
Even lovers.
I love it,
love.
I love love.
I love to love.
I hate to lose.
I miss it.
I miss loving.
I miss falling.
I miss the natural drop.
This is artificial,
Electricity holding my wings aloft.
The wind whispers no poetry.
This is not beautiful.
This is not harps and angels.
This is not making love in the hay fields.
This is not a dive off of a cliff.
This is the bass in my ears.
The whispered hush in my head.
The shaking of my desperate legs.
And I hear the beat drop.
All things must fall.
All things must fall.
Even girls must fall.
Even boys must fall.
Even the place between must drop to it’s knees and beg.
See me.
See me.
Watch me as I burn myself to the ground.
Watch me hit the ground.
All things must fall.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
I want my last words to be meaningful... Then again, everybody does. The sad truth is, no words come close to meaning. The fact that we have to take seperate words and put them together like a puzzle for someone to even understand it, which sometimes they don't, amazes me. I'm sure a time will come where a thousand pictures is worth a word, and not vice versa... Then maybe absence will be meaningful. Until then, I have no last words. None would properly fit the missing piece to the puzzle.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Two inconnu sheathed within sight of one moon
Betwixt embers'and uppers consumed by whom
Two nocturnal allies have each exhumed
By Caffeine and Adderall's swindling tomb
And Nicotine's cluches; an imbibing room
He can't spell
I can't speak
Parallels
None bespeak
He's got canines and relatives
To replete empty spots
Whilst a book full of lies
Keeps my soul ersatz.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Last class:
Muddled mind and bleary eyed
Concentration took a fall
Find a hollow - crawl inside
Lost the pills to Now-Tow Hall
Benzos - always second choice
Wear my Kpen like a shawl
Want to whine with all my voice
GIVE ME BACK MY ADDERALL
This class:
**Iris in on what's inside
Orange bottle of enthrall
Guidance, I will not abide
my true love - oh adderall
Tweaking out with pupils wide
Shrink my presence, oh so small,
Temptations I will all abide
Personified a mere rag doll.**
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
"It's not for anxiety," they said, tightlipped but concerned,
they don't understand that I can't pay attention if my heart beats louder than my words,
The sound of my thoughts coming at me like trains and bike and buses,
honking at me to say something articulate,
is much louder than their confused voices explaining that the blue pill is to stop the jitters,
but I've got other issues.
They don't see that there is a tea kettle bubbling in my stomach that shoots hunger through its long nose,
in shrill whistles that pierce my insides.
It's all I can hear when the TV is on and I haven't eaten.
But that little chemical spreads inside me like a blanket of silence, quells the screaming children
and the little girl constantly tugging at my heartstrings,
making indiscernible chords that only
echo as the sound of jealousy, fear and self loathing.
She tucks her self in and keeps her hands to herself for a few hours.
As the blue devils shovel more coal in the bed warmers,
the sound of metal clanging is muted by their powers.
Chipping away at the noise makers, the inhabitants of my tortured soul-
I love the empty I feel on adderall.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
*I love'd you,
with open hearts,
your love,
was* stimulating.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
It’s sickening to me,
that you’ve developed medicines to reduce my creativity.
It’s almost like I’m up to my chin in the ocean, unable to swim.
But I’m too afraid to cry,
because if I do the water level might rise,
causing me to drown in a sea of diagnosis and pills.
Losing my mind to people who think I’ve already lost it.
Thrown into a room scraping at the door trying to unlock it.
It’s driving me insane that you think my brain moving too fast does anything but save me.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Tuesday night Adderall highs
Strung out on sleepless Spotify
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
focus needle sharp and glowing
piercing the rare white winter calm
of my mind at rest
like a ray of too bright to see sunlight
too hot to do anything but set
the edges of conscious thought ablaze
where they blacken and burn fast
curling inwards with steady flames
roiling over ashen fingers grasping at
the long forgotten Morpheus's throat
prying wide the sleeping god's eyes
fastened open by Prometheus's chains
Hades, Tartarus, eternal penance,
for bringing inspiration into this
dark human world
the price I paid in sleep for grades
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
Got new job today
After hanging up phone
Went for smoke on deck
Looking up at gloom laden sky
Down at wet vermilion leaves
Felt nothing (empty blessing sickness)
Bored
Want for whole charade to be over
All this ********
Therapy and
ADD meds
That make me feel like a zombie
(Dead eyes in mirror look through you)
Abuse them anyway
I don't want to stop
Pretending
To be so much better for family
Really still useless (dead weight anvil)
Really still high dreaming
Of tall buildings on rainy nights
Or ketamine bathtubs
Ready for the end
Tired
Of worrying about the girl
Remorseful poison
Afraid it will take her away
Says she can't stop
Don't want her to go
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
One day at a time
My Mom's the strongest
At alcoholics annonimous
One day at a time
I count my pills
Doctor hopping prevents the chills
They keep her going
Her AA peers
Four months in, without a beer
They keep me going
Addies, I'm wide awake
Kolonopin, come reduce my shakes
So proud of you
As I look in her eyes
New innocence within her mind
So proud of you
Her oldest son
Living lie, I am one
Can't sit still, feelings overflowing
I grab a pill, my cravings growing
Trick all my doctors with false symptoms
Just to control my nervous system
They say life has ups and downs
When I'm down, I pop some ups
Pop the downs when my heart erupts
My morals gone, I am corrupt
One day at a time
Made that motto evil
One day at a time
Countdown to my refills
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
I try to live Here. Here is humid-sticky-underground-dance-hall hot. I’m caught tight in a mess of limbs- bodies stretch and sway from this to Eden. I have never been more lonely. Together we inhale metallic Old Spice. Together we exhale stale tap water hymns. I am breathing all alone.
My tired tongue kicks awake to cheap nail poison as I tap each fingernail against bottom teeth and lightly push three times.
(Four times or eight times. Ten times in one quick, heart-drop minute but who’s counting?
Me. Of course I’m counting. There’s not a beat, rhyme or giggle that hasn’t busy-bee buzzed around my foggy brain. Each thought its own color, each touching down on a different set of crumb-glazed quilts or a different tower of gutted magazines. Each bee is long and thin, pointy in a terrifying way. Each bloated and dripping with a grand idea- which they leave like droppings and are so specifically intense they will never make any sense a breath apart from this moment and this context which crumpled and blew away while I dully, dutifully checked my pulse. I'm alive but my thoughts took off. I can see their exhaust but they fled fast, like they knew I could only begin to gnaw on them. They were born to quickly, maniacally live and die- in and out and there then off and gone.)
Here. Here the walls are chipping off one hundred years, one hundred lives of lead-based paint and are dripping onto the frayed denim of my ****** cut-offs. Impossibly long hair, absurd to call it mine, hangs heavy and wet. The strands shed drops of atmosphere on my (and their and your and-) bare feet. I’m my own sumi brush- my calligraphy is not words, but a footprint-marked path to treasure. Braided bits cling heavy and soaked to the curve of my neck and then billow like sheets hung out in the wind. My sharp, slick scapula must be the laundry line. It’s one of the good bones. Good bones only exist while jutting. The scapula is the beautiful ******* of my skeleton and we finally have made nice.
Here the music is so loud. The bass ignites my dental cavities. They sting and pierce as a reminder of how terribly I’m taking care. Lights blink, the room quakes and I need water. I’m throbbing and flickering and faces attached to bones slither between each other and grind up into my own perfect focus. They’re smirking.
One at a time they appear with a warm, grainy hand on the small of my cold-sweat back. Each face of bones lean in close, dry and cracked lips that graze my own fever-hot ears. Goose bumps sling up and down limbs and the lips, all smudgy red lipstick and cigarette breath, whisper something to me that is absolutely crucial. It’s something beautiful or something hilarious or something crude but I can’t hear it. I’ll never hear it. They throw their bones back and cackle-laughing so hard it must be painful. All I can hear is my eardrums cracking and breaking, laying the bass for a high pitched dial tone.
One by one they do this and then, with a huge play-dough smile and eyes as deep as I feel, they slowly back away from my flimsy, electric body. I know they’re relieved they didn’t get stung. This goes on for forty straight hours. I feel like the Queen bored and still as they file through to kiss my ring. I feel like I’m at my own wake. I am beginning to erupt. I am lightly vibrating with the burden of militant creativity. I think I'm melting from the inside out. The bones still laugh and the bees, diving like war missiles, are screaming that it’s time to flesh out that novel, string precise words together in a huge, monumental way down golden strings that will change the world for the better and forever hang on God's graceful neck. It's time to record that beloved lullaby and sculpt that masterpiece or put on black clothes, sneak out and vandalize monuments. It is all absolutely crucial and so very urgent. Everything is wailing and I’m nodding slowly because if I do not do it, ALL OF IT, now- right this instant and quickly- I will die having said nothing. I will have wasted my opportunity to matter.
Here. Here the bone-bodies continue to mock me. The room stays dim and damp and I don’t think I’ll ever get clean. After twenty minutes or seventy years the crowd thins out, lights switch on illuminating exit signs and the room slowly, sadly, empties. I am sticky and aching and have never felt dumber. The bone-bodies left their blurry sweat, their empty bottles and their void inspirations like blank fortunes trailing across the bar top. There’s a real, fur, calf-length coat and a fake Birkin bag in the corner. My feet are filthy.
Here. But I’m not really Here. Here is bougy and exclusive. There’s no list but you probably can’t get in because actually Here is utter ******** Here is the moldy bricks and pre-war ceilings inside my head.
Leaving Here is too easy. You blink and you’re gone. Then I try to remember what party I even went to but I’m sitting Indian style and cramped on rough carpet and my back is in knots and everything I’m thinking is slow, melting taffy lose and inconsistent.
The sun starts to rise up pink through broken bedroom blinds and I know that I went way down deep and danced and gripped tight to flurrying ideas and made a big mess and now I’m stuck ripping papier-mâché, three inches thick, off coat-check walls and trying to read the graffiti-ed bathroom stalls but the Sharpie is dripping and I might be illiterate.
The Somethings I came to flirt with are hiding and won’t answer ‘POLO’ no matter how loudly I scream ‘Marco! ******* Marco!’ I’m reeling and under-breath begging ‘and please come find me and let’s make stuff and we can’t waste this and I can’t be a waste.’ But below all the pacing and knuckle-cracking I know that there are no Somethings listening to my panicky prayers. They sneaked out while I was braiding my hair for the sixth time, humming something old and Johnny Cash-y that I remembered and liked and had to Google and perform eight times for a mirror. I sneeze and I want to cry. I don’t think I know how to read. Edges start to blur and the alphabets a mess.
In defeat I’ll wash my face and slide under one light blanket and quickly sweat through it. I’ll lower my heavy, thick-thought and dizzy head onto a stack of three pillows. My vision will fall away from me and stars will explode in a chatty whisper that has be immobile and straining and sore. I will treat them like a sky full of fireworks blazing just for me. I'll ooh and ahh and my heart will palpitate under the weight of them. (Really I do know they're just amphetamine snowflakes falling slowly and burying my wasted night. I swear next time I won’t waste it.) But at that moment I'll watch the show and feel safe and small and inconsequential, at last.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC