"albuterol" poems
Everyday you ask why I love you
You say
"Why do you you love me when I put you through Hell.
When I push you into your shell,
And I never give you a straight answer.
You say " Why do you love me when I can't love you back,
And when I have all these mood swings."
Well this is what I say.
I love you because you are like my Asthma.
I didn't chose to have you here with me all the time, but you are.
You are here to make my life harder,
But you also make me stronger.
When the voggy winds blow
And it gets hard to breathe
It is you falling.
Yet I pick that Inhaler of mine up
And I take two deep breaths,
and I lift you back up.
As my breaths become clearer.
I know that I will never be able to breathe as well as others.
Just as I know I will never fall out of love for you.
You are the chronic lung disease that forces me to try harder.
The person that makes me try my hardest when I'm singing up on that stage.
You motivate me.
It is you that is always on my mind
When I have to try hard to take breathes instead of just breathing.
When I am running and my lungs start to choke me, it is the pain I feel every time I see you with him instead of me.
Because Love
You are my lung disease.
You are the funny noise my breath makes when I dance,
Because the Oxygen doesn't want to go in.
And when you touch me I feel the buzzing sensation that I get when taking my albuterol.
The warmth of my Nebulizer as it vaporizes the medicine for me to breathe.
Every kiss you plant on my head, fills me with the dizziness that I get from my medication
When I try to stand up, I end up falling just as hard as I have for you.
You are the relief I feel when I take my
Meds on a bad day, you make me feel normal again.
That's why I love you.
That is why I don't care if you're with him instead of me.
Because you will always be with me.
Just like my lung disease.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
Hydrocodone®
Lipitor®
Zithromax®
Zocor®
Zoloft®
Prozac®
Ambien®
Fosamax®
Coumadin®
Klonopin®
Neurontin®
Naproxen®
Simvastatin
Albuterol
Glucophage
Metoprolol
I am hurting
on my knees
Can't afford
any of these!
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
tremors from the albuterol
two puffs was enough
to loosen my chest
after my fourth maverick
cheap smokes
but not cheap enough
to fill you full of fiber glass
and cat **** chemicals
my lungs call me a hypocrite
can't help but agree
i'll get one of those digital cigs
to avoid the nightmare patch
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
mom? dad?
i’m drowning.
swimming towards the light above,
astringent tears fill my lungs.
mom? dad?
i can’t breathe.
miniscule doses of albuterol
escaping from my little plastic inhaler
stand meager in the eyes of the overly developed fear,
prying its way up the lengths of my throat.
mom? dad?
there’s a stranger in my room.
i stand in front of the mirror
waiting for my reflection;
waiting to see that little girl,
bright, blue eyes, wide smile.
but there’s a stranger there instead;
bloodshot eyes,
inflamed scores down her cheeks,
reaking of poor judgement and broken promises.
mom? dad?
i can’t hear the music.
the floor is varnished with broken cds,
torn-up sheets of abandoned lyrics,
mutilated “i love you”s;
but the record player is still on.
turning and turning
yet i don’t hear a single note,
my senses are paralyzed
by the blow of my demolished heart.
mom? dad?
they won’t stop talking.
people.
people in my head.
voices loud as they scream profanities,
soft as they whisper lullabies,
stern as they bellow punishments.
i can’t make sense
of those who twist and tug on my heart strings
and those who wish to elongate them.
i need out.
mom? dad?
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
I am from inky cities,
From steaming street pancakes and cold noodles.
I am from lonely alleys beyond that dark turn.
(shadowy, quiet,
filled with whispers of cats wild and shabby)
I am from square, paint-dried courtyards,
A secret hideout to breathe in the murmurs of ancient trees,
Only shared with shadow thieves,
Whose yellow eyes glow and ***** tails curl.
I am from the mountain beyond the choking greyness,
From the spot atop the hills where city lights could be seen
In stealthy nights through rain and frost.
I am from candied haws and stinky bean curds,
From chalky evenings
Spent high inside a climbing gym
Wearied, exhausted, inside-out.
I am from the toxic city,
Swarming with masked humans and silenced voices.
I’m from albuterol and Ipratropium bromide,
Sick from the cupboard of budesonide;
Saved again by the sky-blue machine feeding marshmallow clouds
Into my heavy, wheezy lungs.
Upon winter, I travelled far, said farewell to the city
Where ten years of memories lie dusted, submerged.
Thus I am from the serene seal cove and clear turquoise waters,
Where maple drips sweetly and pine needles rain,
From matted red-forest trails like a padded trampoline.
From the realm of black bears, red berries, and duck-duck-goose.
I said goodbye to the Chinese cats and Canadian bears,
And seized my pen to write the rest of my poem–
Because life, as they say,
“Is the art of drawing without an eraser”
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 2:23 PM UTC
I'm afraid of trips to the hospital
you know that.
I'm allergic to dogs, cats, and dust
of course you know that.
Something I can't bear,
but you live for.
It starts with a wheeze,
a trembling cough with no matter
andthenIpanic.
Fiddling through old pockets and and a glove box
ican'tbreathe.
I know you're somewhere close
wherethehellareyou?
Hiding in a pocket from yesterday
thankyoujesus.
Gripped firmly to my mouth
I give your silver top a hard push
AND THEN AT LAST
vapor fills my airways to ease the inhales
from my last cigarette.
A subtle sweet taste, like spray candy
mixed with cough syrup.
I hold for ten alligators so you can work in peace
as you navigate through swamps
of shisha and THC.
A thick fog I cannot see.
Ripping the mucus from my walls
making tar stuck to tissue seem like a lubricant
for a fire engine.
At last clean air.
A moment enjoyed for a minute.
One last puff,
and I'm not dead yet.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
the struggle was never real
i put it on myself
been thinking about some stuff I wish I never did
if there's a pill to make some people forget about how I used to be I'd go broke buying them
I remember every feeling and its a love hate thing
burgundy carpets smell like my ashed get aways
fabreeze helped a little
running on albuterol but still the fastest
my dosage is high but you're breathing harder
my mind has been scattered all day I need someone to tell me something about how they feel about me
don't know what matters and I dont know if it should matter
my sd card is running out of space, I need some space
been ducking the wind lately
im convinced im fairly happy but im not a fair type of person
my way beats the highway so **** a double seater
a coupe is nice but I've damaged my lungs too much to damage the earth
time isn't so much of a problem anymore so I ride my bike slowly, no need for the speed shifts
Im shirtless only when I'm alone at home, what does that tell you?
I wanna try a different genre but people wont **** with me, tears dry anyway
change is good
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
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.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
I remember the Fall
I remember the bokeh
Placed in a vase and kept by our bedroom
window
It took your breath away, fed off your lungs
and grew so monstrous by dark
We tried in vain to replace what was lost
with the artificial:
Albuterol haze, Gaussian distribution
It failed, as you know
And I too fell within the blur of the rebound effect,
struggling to keep from panic
Then rang alarums that lay-in-wait, then came red lights,
then came shouting for help
You laid on the livingroom floor, intubated
Life nearly snuffed out
Me in tremors, two cats hiding
You would survive, but neither of us would
ever be the people before
Clearly, not all blur is equal, each has its own aesthetic quality
Mine tends to fall under the umbrella of disturbing thought patterns
We each reflect on different things
about that day
My fail-safe is trying not to remember at all
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 4:07 PM UTC