"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.

They warned me about you.
I read the nutrition facts
and saw the ingredients.
The FDA didn't fail to inform me,
you were no good for me.
Toxic, even.
I knew this all but you...
always smelt better than you looked
or tasted,
Like a lemon poppyseed,
with salt for sugar-
strange and savory,
but I should stop eating.

Ocean muffin
maybe made for a bird flying low,
or some big fish
swimming in shallow waters.
I was the bird flying low,
with no luck in the wild,
searching for scraps,
and saw one in tact.
It held promise.
Swallowed you whole
and lost all of my feathers
expelling you out.
You were for the big fish.
The ones who only bite off
what they can chew.
I cannot consume
you who poisons me.

My heart is still a broken clock,
it stopped when you said "We need to talk."
It hasn't ticked a beat since then,
it only sits inside my chest.
It stuck where we were sickly green-
Yours gone blue, now red and mean.
All I see are plants and trees,
frozen with the honey bees.
There is no other soul in sight,
just your face etched in my eyes.
I haven't heard another sound,
since your backwards singing
comes around.
Circling in my ears all night,
my sleep is taken by your lies.
You've gone on living day by day,
I'm still standing in last May.
I'll watch you thrive for another year,
and then you'll have to disappear.

It's getting to be boring.
I'm sure you're aware.
So it'll be no surprise,
when I'm out of your hair.
I've got big ideas,
a few sweet plans.
You don't need to be there,
with your indifference.
I won't drag you along,
or force you to bite.
Either walk beside me,
or return to the night.
You groan and you sigh.
I think of everything else.
You lie through your teeth,
about what you've felt.
And I'll believe you
because of the way you smell
like I need you,
can't get over your spell.
Your white mask is plastic,
you're still just a pup,
fooling everyone with
thinking your time is up.
You pull at your hair,
dig into your face.
You just need some sleep,
and to stay in one place.
Stop sniffing at me,
and licking my wounds,
I'm sick of the sting,
I'm leaving soon.

spent.
you groan.
you deplore the feeling of trying
only the smallest amount more than you deplore
staying still.
spills.
the clutter.
the mess, it gets the best of you each and every time,
it rhymes with destruction
that suction of the blackhole
that has become your home.
spread.
across beds.
you're only a little sliver and you stretch your arms wide
to cover everything your pride
will allow you to, and you dry-heave
and **, in your emaciated pose,
you're thin but...
spry.
limber, even.
you've got some years ahead of you.
your bones only ache as much as you brought them to.
your vision is clear and reading hasn't taken much from you.
those two portals to a weary soul
help you carry a stance with promise.
they'll make you speak.