"antipsychotics" poems
Stuff may happen but I don't understand.
I don't know why they talk to me,
I don't know why I'm here.
I'd rather cease to exist
Because then I won't be spoken to.
When people open their mouths to me
I wonder what they are doing.
Can't they tell I'm basically incompetent,
At conversing as they do?
And I want to love my mother.
Most of the time I'm sure I do,
But I'm not sure how to anymore.
That's what happens when you give but don't receive.
I want to flourish socially,
At least enough so I can manage to achieve something,
But it's getting harder it seems.
Sometimes I feel I can't be bothered
With just anything.
I feel kind of surreal,
Like things are happening but I'm not very there.
Sometimes I want my daydreams to all just go away,
But whilst I say that I am begging them to stay.
It makes me almost wish they could just give me antipsychotics,
And that they would help everything wrong with me that no one understands.
Even what seems expected to be understood,
It seems like no one does.
Once again, there's another way
Of how I am an outcast
Way more than once and for always.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
I'm one of the ones you call insane,
Because I can't play along with this rigged game.
The odds are stacked, and not in our favor,
But instead for the Bankers with money, they create more.
I look and I see the strife all around,
And know the potential for human life has no bounds.
And when I make a sound,
It's like the words are all drowned,
Or at least lost at sea.
Message in a Bottle from Humanity.
A Human who knows the scale of her insignificance -
While knowing the magnitude of what is at risk -
The disposal of this awesome gift.
I'm one of the ones you call insane,
Because I can't play along with this rigged game.
I know my role, and I know how the story goes.
I should vote in vain and be told my Heroes.
But no, I dance to my own rhythm,
I tell myself it's internally driven,
To improve myself, and the world around,
The world at large, and earthworms in the ground.
So I rejected my spoon-fed medicine,
Of this culture, man-made incentives,
Long before you inject me with antipsychotics.
Internally, Mentally, I chant the mantra of "Stop This."
It can drive a person insane,
Pretending to play this rigged game.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
I have no control,
I'm just a reflection of emotions deep below,
Feed me some antipsychotics,
Free me from my mind,
Bionic-
I got the sickest of Minds,
Come equipped with the quickest depictions that sicken your eyes,
Unassisted, don't be resistin' the fight,
Trip sixes leave you ******* to die,
Rap circles around you like a serpent constrictin your life,
Drag you through the mud and the muck before I kiss you goodbye like the crucifixion of Christ,
You don't know what's livin inside or what I put into these lines,
You might wanna diss me but it's almost forbidden to try,
**** on you ******* while I'm kissin the sky,
Diss all your writtens while you listen to mine,
A misfit, I'm twisted with an addiction to rhyme,
Watch you stiffen at the sight of me hissin at night,
Silence these voices I tried but my prescription ain't right,
My lungs are collapsin like somethins kickin my sides,
I'm not twitchin, I'm flinchin,
Pay attention, there's a difference,
Somethin wants to get in and take away my decisions,
Sometimes I wonder how the **** I got in this position,
I keep talkin to God even though he don't listen,
He's prob'ly ****** off from all the sins I've committed,
Unspeakable actions let the demons in, scratchin,
I keep pleadin and askin but believe I'm the baddest,
Can't seem to keep it, reactin, but receivin the static,
Creepin in the dreams of an addict that needs to be handed,
It's reachin in me and its makin me panic, I'm takin it back and,
Retracin my tracks and erasin the past and,
Replace you with ashes and take the flame back I'm,
Burnin alive while rehearsing these lines,
You can feel it churnin inside, the turnin through time,
You're cursin my life,
Feel like bursting inside-
Feed me some antipsychotics,
Free me from my mind,
Bionic,
Walkin a fine line,
But I called it,
"Its night time,"
Don't worry, I'm on it-
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
you think you’re crazy
don’t worry,
god’s crazy,
god made the demons in his head ,
made beings to carry the monsters seething from his omnipotent,
gave you a brain beating to the chemical cocktail
blood and ****
pain and instinctive lust
gain to gorge,
you’re just the issues god takes his prescriptions for,
stop asking
pleading,
groping why,
clutch that 20,000 leagues deep self esteem
and cuddle the cockroaches slithering about your skull line,
cash the cracked aspirations
and scar barren flashbacks of childhood and fleeting “innocence”,
you’re of it
made for it
just another it in the frontal lobe of the big mans ****** ******
bludgeon the reasoning,
the self serving
“why me?”
“why this?”
“why good?”
“why evil”
why not just accept cause and effect,
things break,
things fix,
things die,
things live,
there’s no
westernized
white bread
european cast deity judging these play toys
on a singular ignorant perspective
known as “morals”
of which we as american christians know by birth
even though perspective’s just a shaped system
clay formed by surroundings and conditioning,
meaning is a lie we manifest to make living comfortable,
accept and live,
die and ascend,
be bliss
coddle the drug,
and take your place as gods little chemical embalance
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
He got up onstage lookin’ like somebody’d torn him out of a National Geographic special on the Amish, plunked ‘im down in Eugene for a decade where he quickly realized he didn’t have to change much to get along quite alright here.
this is a song ya know I played it here 23 years ago just right over there on that side of the room and ya know my partner and I played it here and I couldn’t write songs then and he could and I was a little bit down in the dumps about myself about it but then I moved on and ya know my partner left here not long after that got caught up in that hitchhiking business and then got tangled up with the mental hospital and now he’s forced to take antipsychotic drugs every day for a time he was known as the second most dangerous schizophrenic in the state of Oregon but ya know he was also probably the second most gentle person in the state of Oregon cause ya know opposites sometimes come together in that way and ya know his songs were gentle too like this one for example this one is real gentle
ya know he was really a gentle player and now he’s caught up on those antipsychotics and its all my fault cause I drank a bunch of *****
Hot Tub Jeff looked straight outta National Geographic but when he sat down he pulled out a phone and the screen glowed bright on his face bringing out all the creases that had been hidden in room’s putty atmosphere, cause ya know opposites sometimes come together in that way.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
why can't you all stop lining your pockets with gold-studded fleece while every ounce of creativity in the lower rungs of the ladder is dubbed "crazy"?
i don't want it to slow.
my brain is my friend.
keep her alive.
keep her ALIVE.
halting d2 receptors is not a cure for shorter-cut sleeves-
it's a pharmacological disease disguised as a dreamer in heat,
as a simple lighthouse in a tree with no leaves.
i can't
let my name change
i am not broken
NOT
scarred and
only temporary because
it's all done behind a curtain,
anyway.
i've left no spare rooms for unrecognized pain-
the echoes of vacancy are reflective of my woeful naivety.
as i drift further into galaxies in my dreams, i
will soften like damp Styrofoam
until i
sink.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
were i to eat the sun
and let its pulp trickle down my throat—
would i glow through the skin
like gods do
in their upstairs rooms?
would they pull a chair for me?
would they look me in the face
or through it?
what is it,
to have no one above
but still feel pressed from the top down?
the halls breathe.
the windows widen.
my mind reached the edge of space
and left static in the vents.
it drips from the ceiling
in the shape of warnings.
i drift through the folds
of my boxmind—
no doors, no exits,
just pill bottles echoing in reverse.
the corners hum in borrowed voices.
my tongue collapses
like paper soaked in antiseptic.
it’s always like this
when the antipsychotics dissolve
before i do:
time frays,
gravity peels,
and i wake up
inside-out.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
I still remember her house vividly;
It was always messy, clothes and toys littering the floor
While the cats wandered by whenever they pleased.
There was a beautiful doll's house that she cherished so much
That she let me play with as she spoke to my parents in the kitchen.
Guitar-playing was a passion of hers,
And I'd sit, transfixed, as she sang along to the songs she played,
With a wide grin on her face, that was her home.
Now it's not.
It's never going to be her home again,
Because now she lives in a home for old people with health problems.
She had a breakdown after the death of her sister
And no-one could give her the help she needed, so she went away
Where her loved ones thought she'd be well looked after.
There the staff kept her locked in her room,
Mind atrophied from the solitude they forced upon her
Except for the times they shoved antipsychotics that she didn't need down her throat.
No-one visited her. How could they?
Her son insisted she stay in her home city
Even though everyone in the family lived in another.
My mother couldn't see her own sister, busy being a carer for me and her mother,
Not for years, and by then it was too late.
She'd fallen over, broken her hip and banged her head,
And she suffered through the agony for three days,
Until my mother found out and demanded they take her to hospital.
Then the home was shut down and she lives somewhere else,
Only five minutes away where she's visited often.
But it's all too late.
Once lively, outgoing, big booming laughter that filled the hallways,
She's now timid and frail, she's aged twenty years in only six.
There are no passions, only forced smiles
Dotted here and there, on rare occasions, with genuine glimpses of happiness.
And I'd love to tell you that I'm writing this for her,
Because I love and miss her and want to document the downfall of a woman so wonderful.
But I'd be a liar, because this write is as much about me as it is about her.
Every time I look at her, I can't help but wonder how long I have left
Until I'm in the same place as her.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
ready to give up
go to rehab
for trauma and *****
tell the truth
cant handle
normal things
like bills, loud noises
push people away
they just want to use me
just wanted pain to stop
cant even get that right
day late and dollar short
take me away
numb me with
antipsychotics and lithium
different pills
same dependency
ready to give up
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Sometimes you scream and images of faceless faces plague your mind.
Consider not feeling fear,
cut the face open,
dye yours in the face's blood.
Ignore empathy.
Become apathetic.
Die.
Okay now take these antipsychotics.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
That's what they're calling me now.
I can't seem to produce their language.
But that's what the elder sprits
Have been calling me.
I guess it freaked them out at first lol
Sure as hell rocked my world..
But they see the stability resuming,
As I feel my strength return.
Now everyone wants to know what
I'm going to do next.
It's obvious, is it not?
When a shaman is having big big spirit troubles, then it's time to meet a smarter shaman. I've already been making calls.
A lot of people think I should check into a psychiatric ward. Maybe they're justified in thinking so. But this is burning in my chest. I will not subdue it under a blanket of antipsychotics. No..that would make me truly insane, or worse.. **** my heart with my body still trapping it.
No, my friends, this is a spiritual matter. A matter of heart and honor and such. Satan himself is the enemy
And we are on a mission from God
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
you're turning into your father, you know.
yeah. I know.
didn't you tell me you would never do this?
yeah. I did.
then why are you doing it?
I don't know.
why don't you just stop
I'm in too deep to stop.
*that's ********
yeah. I know.
you know what you're doing would break her heart
yeah...I know.
she would be crushed if she knew
...
you know this will end badly, don't you?
pretty much.
you know how you're on antipsychotics?
yeah?
you shouldn't be drinking
or smoking cigarettes
or doing molly
or taking dabs
or cutting yourself
or starving yourself
or making her think you feel more than you do
or--
get the **** out
fine...talk to you soon.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
When I have so much of no feeling
that it turns into apathy, I’m told
to believe that it’s my mental health
playing tricks on me again. But what
if this is just who I’m destined to be?
No one wants to figure out what’s
wrong with me, so they feed me
antidepressants, antipsychotics,
anxiety medication, and mood
stabilizers until I stop complaining.
What if they’re just shutting me out?
Like the ocean pulling back, my eyes
are reaching out for help. If you
can’t be that, all you see is the
empty waters. What’s really there
is all of the casualties of the storm.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
I night dream, I day-dream
Falling everyday
As the distance calls for me
I'm trying to cling for growth
Yet , I'm searching for my obituary
I memorized the words
A flower face with electric taste
Tiny shadow with a fierce force
Eating the night away
With Jack on my tongue I forget my name
Needles,patches and antipsychotics
On this exotic edge of my release
My waist has never been thin
My ribs have never been a bird bath
I'm to hungry to stay alive
This hollow patched affair
The shape of anxiety drowns me
Forcing all the air from my lungs
Lost lovers and forgotten friends
Suddenly appear
Tasting my words like never before
Death is contagious
As everyone sits in the shadows
I'm surrendering to the ghosts
I have made love to razor blades
Had affairs with whiskey and pills
Have danced over lines I said I would never cross
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
No,
You cannot drink you're on antibiotics.
Wait,
I'm here taking antipsychotics.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Have you ever heard of medication induced bipolar.
Three years of complete insanity.
None of it was me. It wasnt me. It never came from me.
I sit on the same couch hallucination free. Such ******* clarity. It all makes sense. I was never paranoid, the medication was paranoid. I could scream till my lungs collapse "IT WASNT ME. NONE OF IT WAS MY FAULT. I WASNT MYSELF"
I was loaded with antipsychotics that made me psychotic.
The second I made my environment safe and came off the prescriptions it all went away.
It was never me.
I wasnt myself.
It wasnt my fault.
I dont have to blame me.
All of it was drugs and environment.
I was grieving the death of my first love and I was ***** in my own home where I thought I was safe. I snapped and I thought it was my fault. It wasnt insanity it was a normal human response to trauma and grief. I was just a person hit with some painful events. I was just a human brain trying desperately to cope with my reality. I didnt **** my relationship, I wasnt crazy, it wasnt me, I didn't do it. It was never me.
Nov 24, 2019
Nov 24, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
Scorpio
Made up that my mom wouldn’t let me watch SpongeBob
Loves to lie
Got suspended from seventh grade for lying
Been in constant relationships for 10 years
Serial cheater for 10 years
Swears I’m reformed
Could be a millionaire but loves the mall
Flies for lesbian dates
Has been flown to for lesbian dates
Once got a girl to drive through a snowstorm
5’6”
No dad
Was the personnel manager of the class mini economy project in fourth grade
Groomed by a summer camp counselor. Liked it for the plot.
Told everyone I was allergic to **** until I was 23
Incredibly good manipulator
Wrote my mom strongly worded 10 page papers to get out of getting grounded as a child (ages 8-15).
It always worked.
Stole a sticker from South Africa
(The following two are funny to me and should be funny to you)
Bipolar
On antipsychotics
When asked who my favorite author is I say myself
Convinced a whole three week class of people at summer camp that my name was Bella
They called me that the rest of the summer
Swiftie
Diet Coke
God complex
Blocked by all of my exes
Left a spot for Jesus Christ at my tea parties as a child
Pushed kids down the slide in preschool
Middle name is Nikkole
Jun 3, 2023
Jun 3, 2023 at 11:24 PM UTC