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"acetaminophen" poems
Temptations have left me forsaken but my will was only shaken shortly leaving some mistaken that I would falter to the poison of my generation I seek salvation In a place built upon degradation I pick at the foundation Wishing for a system malfunction The gears have given me an allergen The pushed solution cut with acetaminophen To numb the blind into oblivion A wise man seems much like an alien Corruption rises as the population lays down Praising kings without a crown Pasting plastic smiles over the town This massive break from reality has really paid off The fruits we'll never see and rich we'll never be No matter how much cash you receive Consider your soul far out of reach
0
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
Dope Sickness
And so as a man, a job, a cactus wearing a business suit sharing relations with the hydrant down the street. A ***** strapped to a baby carriage with plastic baggie cellphones yelling "run away now" to the grass at his feet. A man devoid of water, rather. These are the times A well, emptied. Rather death find waves of spilled milk and all the fat people, skinny. A dry mouth desert, kneeling In either breath of a living feeling or the one that talks of so much for only the wealth of his screaming. Some tiny furniture talked all night about running through wheat, ebbing and flowing against the end tables, then falling short as crumbling tree leaves. An ottoman as recycle bin holding stem from stem of watermelon children and vine-ripened acetaminophen. Some odd truth told the blowing wind that God does cartwheels with Lucifer at random. It then billowed out about his ***** underwear and holy fodder for memorandum.   I would say a man, a vision, A little girl using a GPS to calculate the distance from the rest her teething. Instead, she found a funny barbeque ***** playing hog-tied pharmaceutical reps into neoprene mud-flapping pigeons. I would say the sinking plastic six-pack islands revealing trash limbs, sunken, honest, grim. Life, itself, must move in tandem to only fleeting geese. Though in plan, the artisan-picking fruit of word must be depicted. Live in sin and ignorance much like the breaking news walking on broken record. And so as a man; a fear. He looked down, staring at no one with bare feet and shaken, coconut flavored palm trees.
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
A man is as often does.
And so as a man, a job, a cactus wearing a business suit sharing relations with the hydrant down the street. A ***** strapped to a baby carriage with plastic baggie cellphones yelling "run away now" to the grass at his feet. A man devoid of water, rather. These are the times A well, emptied. Rather death find waves of spilled milk and all the fat people, skinny. A dry mouth desert, kneeling In either breath of a living feeling or the one that talks of so much for only the wealth of his screaming. Some tiny furniture talked all night about running through wheat, ebbing and flowing against the end tables, then falling short as crumbling tree leaves. An ottoman as recycle bin holding stem from stem of watermelon children and vine-ripened acetaminophen. Some odd truth told the blowing wind that God does cartwheels with Lucifer at random. It then billowed out about his ***** underwear and holy fodder for memorandum.   I would say a man, a vision, A little girl using a GPS to calculate the distance from the rest her teething. Instead, she found a funny barbeque ***** playing hog-tied pharmaceutical reps into neoprene mud-flapping pigeons. I would say the sinking plastic six-pack islands revealing trash limbs, sunken, honest, grim. Life, itself, must move in tandem to only fleeting geese. Though in plan, the artisan-picking fruit of word must be depicted. Live in sin and ignorance much like the breaking news walking on broken record. And so as a man; a fear. He looked down, staring at no one with bare feet and shaken, coconut flavored palm trees.
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40
walk side streets    alone - headphones. zones of melody    channeling canals deeper than all    the billboards basted by bad barters.       must’ve been mistaken. although their dressed   up, they’re simmering thin - acetaminophen.   finished, drugged bugs cling strings holding    last lines of defense.
0
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
Chicago Side Streets
Dopamine and acetaminophen. Overdose and recoup. Red and blues you can swallow like candy. Controversial tests of trust and health. Shiny coated treats to take you away. Whichever you chose be careful. It's chemical warfare.
0
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 8:54 AM UTC
Drugged Love
A place just for me, you see. I can hid there and never be seen. In this place I typically don't cry. I am the real me, no need to cut me ear to ear just to see a smile here. You see dear, if I ever were to tell you what I imagine here you'd have me sent away. Would you like a little insight? Shhh, don't tell of these words. I think of taking the blade that sits there in the corner and slicing my wrists. Letting the blood drip. I find it fascinating to hold my hand up, like I could just grab a star. But then the reality is, I am only holding my arm up to let the blood run down it.   I let it pour out. Its no longer a drop or two, I've grown out of that faze. I like thinking of the acetaminophen sitting just 4 inches away. I reach for it, it rubs against my finger tips I can't grasp it, palms too sweaty and hands too shaky. I finally get it into my reach. I reach in with my ****** index and pointer fingers, I get out just two pills. It is just a start I tell myself, just enough for a deep sleep. But then I remember I never want to be woken up. I swallow the two pills and pick up the blade again. I carve "victim" into my thigh, that's what I was my whole life. I get some blood on my fingers, I am aware I have only a few minutes before I become dizzy. I start writing my suicide note to my family. I am writing it my blood. Maybe I could have left something more beautiful, imagine not being able to find your daughter but when you did she was in a puddle of blood with ****** writing surrounding where she lays, limp and cold. I reach for the bottle of acetaminophen. I need more, lots more, to reach my desired amount of sleep. I pour the bottle on my hands, one pill falls, then two, then three. I eventually lost count. I careful place each and every pill on my tongue. I let each one represent everything bad I have been called, and everything bad i've been forced into. I step closer to my deep sleep. I feel the ***** coming up my throat, Like the demons crawling up  my insides. I ***** up water, I haven't eaten in days. I ***** and then curl up into a ball, I am surrounded by my own blood. I'm slipping away, I can feel it. Good night, I whisper. H.T
0
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
a place just for me
A place just for me, you see. I can hid there and never be seen. In this place I typically don't cry. I am the real me, no need to cut me ear to ear just to see a smile here. You see dear, if I ever were to tell you what I imagine here you'd have me sent away. Would you like a little insight? Shhh, don't tell of these words. I think of taking the blade that sits there in the corner and slicing my wrists. Letting the blood drip. I find it fascinating to hold my hand up, like I could just grab a star. But then the reality is, I am only holding my arm up to let the blood run down it.   I let it pour out. Its no longer a drop or two, I've grown out of that faze. I like thinking of the acetaminophen sitting just 4 inches away. I reach for it, it rubs against my finger tips I can't grasp it, palms too sweaty and hands too shaky. I finally get it into my reach. I reach in with my ****** index and pointer fingers, I get out just two pills. It is just a start I tell myself, just enough for a deep sleep. But then I remember I never want to be woken up. I swallow the two pills and pick up the blade again. I carve "victim" into my thigh, that's what I was my whole life. I get some blood on my fingers, I am aware I have only a few minutes before I become dizzy. I start writing my suicide note to my family. I am writing it my blood. Maybe I could have left something more beautiful, imagine not being able to find your daughter but when you did she was in a puddle of blood with ****** writing surrounding where she lays, limp and cold. I reach for the bottle of acetaminophen. I need more, lots more, to reach my desired amount of sleep. I pour the bottle on my hands, one pill falls, then two, then three. I eventually lost count. I careful place each and every pill on my tongue. I let each one represent everything bad I have been called, and everything bad i've been forced into. I step closer to my deep sleep. I feel the ***** coming up my throat, Like the demons crawling up  my insides. I ***** up water, I haven't eaten in days. I ***** and then curl up into a ball, I am surrounded by my own blood. I'm slipping away, I can feel it. Good night, I whisper. H.T
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48
I would have to rely on drugs in order to recover from you Acetaminophen for the pain that never seems to go away Lithium to keep me sane for a functioning brain Propofol for temporary euphoria a tinge of a smile even just for a while Cepalin for the scrapes and for the scars to fade All knowledge used and resources searched still I couldn't find the cure to make me forget you.
0
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
How to Forget
you will learn to shift your weight around You will learn to lean against things To always clutch handrails You will learn to rate things from one to ten ten being the worst you’ve ever felt You will learn loss You will lose functionality You will lose what you used to love doing You will learn not to partake in barbecue games, bowling nights You will learn to politely decline invitations You will lose friends Hobbies Muscle memory You will learn to accept it You will learn that it is unacceptable You will lose sympathy for others You will lose track of things You will learn that there is always something more to lose You will learn to hold just a few things sacred to cling only to that which you cannot lose You will learn that those things too can be lost You will learn to hate god You will learn how unobservant most people are You will learn not to disclose You will learn what not to say to avoid their suggestions and advice You will learn to be alone You will learn the difference between NSAIDs and acetaminophen between hydro and oxy the difference between SSI and SSDI between deductibles and out of pocket maximums You will learn to cry in hospital parking garages You will learn the limits of modern medicine for the working and middle classes You will learn to lower your expectations You will learn the definition of the word palliative You will learn to live with it You will learn to smile for pictures You will learn to claim a seat early You will learn to summarize You will learn good days and bad days You will learn sorry I know this is last minute but I have to cancel You will learn to love deeply You will learn to apologize profusely You will learn how successful other people will become You will learn what it means to be a body You will learn so much You will learn so so much
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Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 5:04 AM UTC
What You Will Learn
you will learn to shift your weight around You will learn to lean against things To always clutch handrails You will learn to rate things from one to ten ten being the worst you’ve ever felt You will learn loss You will lose functionality You will lose what you used to love doing You will learn not to partake in barbecue games, bowling nights You will learn to politely decline invitations You will lose friends Hobbies Muscle memory You will learn to accept it You will learn that it is unacceptable You will lose sympathy for others You will lose track of things You will learn that there is always something more to lose You will learn to hold just a few things sacred to cling only to that which you cannot lose You will learn that those things too can be lost You will learn to hate god You will learn how unobservant most people are You will learn not to disclose You will learn what not to say to avoid their suggestions and advice You will learn to be alone You will learn the difference between NSAIDs and acetaminophen between hydro and oxy the difference between SSI and SSDI between deductibles and out of pocket maximums You will learn to cry in hospital parking garages You will learn the limits of modern medicine for the working and middle classes You will learn to lower your expectations You will learn the definition of the word palliative You will learn to live with it You will learn to smile for pictures You will learn to claim a seat early You will learn to summarize You will learn good days and bad days You will learn sorry I know this is last minute but I have to cancel You will learn to love deeply You will learn to apologize profusely You will learn how successful other people will become You will learn what it means to be a body You will learn so much You will learn so so much
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45
Migraine Throbbing noises , neon lights Please ! Go away Smell of caffeine , It's being unendurable Oh ! Aura stabbed me Torment troubles somewhere around I want the drug acetaminophen Don't drill my cerebrum Head is walking with nightmares Monsters are advocate there I need relief Agony is so inconsiderate Fire is in brain and flood in the eyes ibuprofen ? Didn't work ! Headache is still over eye Though attack is fixed for skull , I'm taking high dose aspirin Now , I'm gonna sleep with migraine And wake up with migraine . ©Smriti Ranabhat
0
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
Migraine
the blood is pooling down my wrist and pills bubbling in my throat i cannot live a life like this i cannot go on with life holding me captive. the scars don't hold enough to make me stop cutting the hospitalizations don't weigh enough for me to stop trying i will win this battle with acetaminophen i will win, the devil's will lose or is it the other way around you talked me into it your stupid ******* words and all their carelessness wash it down with liquor you know it's worth nothing to say i love you the words don't come as slow as they used to a little bit of knowledge will destroy you i'll miss the music i'll miss the days i'll miss waking up to sunrise and you delivering my pills i'll miss you caring every single second of the day i'll miss you hoping i'll be okay but this time i wont this time i can't stay because a boy destroyed me, shattered my already broken core all that will be left is bones
0
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
open this when i'm dead
I am hungry and I am not silent I am thirsty with a cask full of headaches -  but I don't partake I am mindful of the acetaminophen with codeine because they take the pain away... So I am no longer hungry and the thirst continues with the glass 1/2 full salt pepper and sugar mixed with baking soda add cupful of flour and raw egg. I can certainly add mayonnaise MIX &EAT;   MIX &EAT;   MIX &EAT;   and she tells me that she loves me and she expels her lonely thoughts and she runs in circles with clarity as the clock continues to tick as my hunger persists for hours and days upon days that last I can no longer go through this and all is becoming useless as the type written lines are becoming shorter my height has become my tolerance...
0
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
MIX &EAT MIX &EAT MIX &EAT
brush your hair comb the edge get rid of your blemishes upkeep things organize nyquil for the idle hands know you're wrong don't say so arguments are a lost cause snapback hat novelty time for the collection fee walmart brand can of worms guilty for the selfish hearse you're alright? yeah, i am throw it in a garbage can cellophane selling pain dip head in the ocean plain saline eyes retina sees iridescence in the trees shutter flash phosphenes lie LED painted sky thumb moves past impulse read why don't you stay in bed? travel blogs saved to note corkboard creaks, tilted down birdcage closed food poured in aluminum paper thin fields of wheat eyelash closed only at the tip of your nose dusk rolls in pavement hides suburbs in your alveoli inhale once exhale twice chew on tepid freezer ice
0
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 11:54 PM UTC
acetaminophen
I'm a chemist too, Walter. Don't believe me? Just take a look at my blood. This iron, albuterol sulfate, acetaminophen, all this? I did it. Don't force my hand, sweetheart. Don't bite the poet that feeds. Don't lick the flames that keep that rage you have going, you'll lose your identity. Don't make your mother scream if you don't want to count bruises. Don't be too soft, child. Don't be too ugly, boy/girl/parasite. Your God's a lion, recently fed, drowsy. I wish you'd believe me when I say I'm sick, Dad. My tongue's falling out.
0
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
Prettiest Flaws
It seems the little man with his hammer and chisel, Has cracked the top of my skull, Made a crack not so little, And now my brain’s far too full, Tick tick tick, Ting ting ting, He caused a split, Heavy hitting, This migraine is mine, There’s not enough time, Not enough, Time.
0
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Acetaminophen
Dear Pastor, I was wandering the church yesterday, and there was a lady crying in your office. Do you know anything about that? Anyway I'm just writing to say: I know you came from that little mud hut in Uganda or something, and I can tell that this is your chance to start anew, but its getting a little crazy here. I heard that like, Four babies overdosed on acetaminophen under your watch. I don't know how true that is, but I believe it. And Whats that rumor that you are starting a zoo all about? Sounds pretty genuine. And the Christmas tree is hanging from the ceiling, because the toothless **** head bit you? Not very forgiving of you. All that going on and you're building a castle? Eh, whatever, you ain't special. Thomas More wrote Utopia before you started blabbing about it. Sincerely, Un-Baptised degenerate.
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Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
Letter to the Dictator
Lawrence Hall [email protected] Night Court For the Prosecution: Spring Allergens For the Defense: Anti-Histamines and Acetaminophen If only headaches went away at night They don’t, and a fresh catalogue of pills Does nothing except fog reality The world spins on and on, and sometimes off The pillow is a bitter accuser Detailing again all of life’s mistakes The sheets and blankets wrinkle in disdain The world’s last spring-wound clock grinds through the hours Maybe the world will stabilize at dawn If only the headaches will go away
0
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
Night Court - Spring Allergens for the Prosecution
father awakened beckoned by bathroom in night his death approaching like headlights in rear-view in cars he careened into cornfields so long ago in women he obsessed over poured over while rolling tea in records he flips through languidly suffering alone, retracting into song crucifix still hung over his jaded bedpost lotion still sits on by his bed where he lay debased and tempted by nothing while his house breaths fissures and crumbles where his legacy sits truncated and dusted in books of song carpet collecting impressionistic stains stove top counting days with soot medicine cabinet reminds of his frivolous youth when he was foolish and paid bills before he was afraid to climb his creaking stairs before he delivered flowers to the funeral home before the acetaminophen ate his soul
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May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 6:33 PM UTC
His 3am Pain Pill
It will never really go away, and I am coming to accept that. It will be there like the copper aftertaste of cheap chocolate that oils the roof of my mouth Like the scoff of my shoes on the hotel carpets that’d annoy my father The ticking of the clock ten minutes off during practice The icy temperatures of the history classroom as I attempt to pay attention Like the rattle of the acetaminophen tablets in my pill bottles The sweaty nights accompanied by tears and fretting for the morning The feeling in my stomach when a test is placed in front of me Like the way he looks at me from down the hall with wandering eyes to match his heart The way my compass sometimes catches on the surface of the paper and ruins the circle entirely The moment of panic before I remember my locker combination Like the cold feeling of going to sleep with wet hair and stubbly legs The dry tightness of my skin after washing my hands The cracking of my face under my nose due to rough tissues Like the threatening surfaces of frozen water in the parking lot The gagging taste of cough syrup as it spills down my throat The embarrassment of not knowing the answer in class and sputtering out “uh”s and “um”s But accepting that doesn’t rule out the good There will be days filled with shocking ecstasy Like the moment a snow day is announced The grade boost after a well prepared for test A good night’s sleep Warm days Cold nights New sweatshirts waiting to have memories sewn into their fibers Putting lotion on after shaving Buying bed sheets Drinking tea Finding a new band Going to concerts Living Breathing Beating Moving Feeling Loving Maybe it's not so bad if I accept that my days won’t be perfect After all Balance is key in the face of diversity
0
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
it will remain
It will never really go away, and I am coming to accept that. It will be there like the copper aftertaste of cheap chocolate that oils the roof of my mouth Like the scoff of my shoes on the hotel carpets that’d annoy my father The ticking of the clock ten minutes off during practice The icy temperatures of the history classroom as I attempt to pay attention Like the rattle of the acetaminophen tablets in my pill bottles The sweaty nights accompanied by tears and fretting for the morning The feeling in my stomach when a test is placed in front of me Like the way he looks at me from down the hall with wandering eyes to match his heart The way my compass sometimes catches on the surface of the paper and ruins the circle entirely The moment of panic before I remember my locker combination Like the cold feeling of going to sleep with wet hair and stubbly legs The dry tightness of my skin after washing my hands The cracking of my face under my nose due to rough tissues Like the threatening surfaces of frozen water in the parking lot The gagging taste of cough syrup as it spills down my throat The embarrassment of not knowing the answer in class and sputtering out “uh”s and “um”s But accepting that doesn’t rule out the good There will be days filled with shocking ecstasy Like the moment a snow day is announced The grade boost after a well prepared for test A good night’s sleep Warm days Cold nights New sweatshirts waiting to have memories sewn into their fibers Putting lotion on after shaving Buying bed sheets Drinking tea Finding a new band Going to concerts Living Breathing Beating Moving Feeling Loving Maybe it's not so bad if I accept that my days won’t be perfect After all Balance is key in the face of diversity
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39
—How are you? —Gettin' by —Good —Yep She was on her third bourbon as they exchanged texts. The smell of it wafted in her face as she held the snifter up to her nose. The sweet syrupy smell of cheap bourbon. She dangled a cat toy in her free hand while the black and white and tabby thing watched the feather sway back and forth in the air. Head turning with each pass like the cat wall clock they used to have when she was little. The clock's eyes glowed in the dark. And it was really dark at night back then when they lived out in the middle of a farming settlement in western Pennsylvania. The interior of the single-story ranch house was decorated in classic fifties kitsch: braided rag rugs clashing with the Oriental lamps, green leaf wallpapering, and glow-in-the-dark cat wall clocks. She took a sip of the room temp bourbon then set the glass down. The cat had lost interest in the dangling feather cat toy so she set that down as well. She got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. She peed, washed her hands in the sink, then steeled herself for the obligatory glance in the mirror. What she saw: an image of a woman that didn't immediately plummet her into an abyss of self-loathing. She would settle for that. She reflexively opened the cabinet door: hair clips, tweezers, baby oil, alcohol, cotton swabs, dental floss, Zoloft, Estradiol, acetaminophen, double-edge razor blades, no razor. She closed the door then said to her reflection: "We should get out of here. Dontcha think?" She looked away, then back again, flounced her hair, and said: "Or dontcha?"
0
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 7:21 PM UTC
Dontcha think?
—How are you? —Gettin' by —Good —Yep She was on her third bourbon as they exchanged texts. The smell of it wafted in her face as she held the snifter up to her nose. The sweet syrupy smell of cheap bourbon. She dangled a cat toy in her free hand while the black and white and tabby thing watched the feather sway back and forth in the air. Head turning with each pass like the cat wall clock they used to have when she was little. The clock's eyes glowed in the dark. And it was really dark at night back then when they lived out in the middle of a farming settlement in western Pennsylvania. The interior of the single-story ranch house was decorated in classic fifties kitsch: braided rag rugs clashing with the Oriental lamps, green leaf wallpapering, and glow-in-the-dark cat wall clocks. She took a sip of the room temp bourbon then set the glass down. The cat had lost interest in the dangling feather cat toy so she set that down as well. She got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. She peed, washed her hands in the sink, then steeled herself for the obligatory glance in the mirror. What she saw: an image of a woman that didn't immediately plummet her into an abyss of self-loathing. She would settle for that. She reflexively opened the cabinet door: hair clips, tweezers, baby oil, alcohol, cotton swabs, dental floss, Zoloft, Estradiol, acetaminophen, double-edge razor blades, no razor. She closed the door then said to her reflection: "We should get out of here. Dontcha think?" She looked away, then back again, flounced her hair, and said: "Or dontcha?"
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5
Where does one begin? Digging through the skin? Or maybe I should start with something deeper within? You rip out my teeth, In a bid for relief, But the joke is on you, because down underneath it all falls right down again, drowned in acetaminophen, And somewhere along the way, we heard somebody say, "Now, there's footprints on the wall, leading down the hall, your actions may be big, and yet, your heart is still small." The voices try to sing, yet all I hear's a ring, but when I listen closely I can make out some thing that says "You can get up again, you're stronger than you've ever been." And somewhere along the way, I knew I'd be okay.
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Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
On the mental fortitude of humans
3am and abruptly, I'm awoken By yet another flashback Accompanied by a throbbing headache Reminding me I'm broken But that's nothing but a bed of roses Compared to the knives I had to endure with him Two, four, six, not even ten Pills of acetaminophen Put me back to sleep In my agony I lay back Struggling not to relive the experience But again I feel hands that creep And explore my unwilling body Ripping me of my wings Leaving me all ****** My heart's pounding My body's burning Oh God! Does this ever end? I guess not Maybe its true trauma lasts forever Because it's been 12 months And it's been haunting me ever since
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Jan 17, 2020
Jan 17, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
The Me He Created