"dosage" poems
Let me tell you about highschool
Let me tell you about the girls with hair higher then they can reach
The boys with the careless hair
The love intre-
No
Let me tell you about MY highschool
With the nerd shirts and phrases that most don’t understand
With the football games and the blue and white face paint
The girls talking to me with another pair of lips rather than the ones plastered on their face
No
Let me tell you about life
About the dew drops in the morning
The smile hidden in a stranger as he orders his double mocha triple shot dosage of love
Injected
No
Let me tell you about me
Let me tell you about my mom and her thin lips that orchestrate fat lies
Let me tell you about my dad who treats the bottle like the daughter he never wanted
Let me tell you about my school life and the way I get treated
No
Let me tell you a story
A story about ups and downs
Pills and coke and *****
With books and love interests
I cant fit my life into a poem
I can tell you my love life in a poem
My scars in a poem
My hate in a poem
My fears in a poem
I can’t tell you my life
I can tell you about my surroundings
How I always try to be strong
But you can only stick your head near ***** for so long
Before you start smelling what they're saying.
I can tell you about homophobia
About the men who flinch at the very word ******
Or the girls who are so uncomfortable with themselves they starve
I can tell you about the parents childless because of bullying
So tell me
What do you want to hear today?
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
Where I was, was bad,
But where I am is worse.
I feel like they’re taking away who I am,
Filling my bloodstream with anti-depressants,
Forcing me to become someone I’m not
Someone I don’t want to be.
The fact remains that my sadness defined me
Struggling against the medication
Desperately attempting to hold onto the part of me that’s me
Wanting so badly for my days to mean something
Instead of the same bland depressing schedule I face everyday
The pills do nothing but supress my suicidal thoughts to my subconcious
So I'm forced to fake a smile, one unlike any other.
This one is to keep them from increasing my dosage,
And I'm scared.
I've never felt so alone
This is what I get
For asking for help
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
MY GOD,
I HAVE INHALED ABANDONMENT FOR SO LONG,
THAT ANY SCENT OF LOVE IN THE AIR,
MAKES IT HARD FOR ME TO BREATHE.
PLUS,
THE TANKS OF OXYGEN ALWAYS SEEM TO BE MIXED WITH A HIGH DOSAGE OF PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY,
AND I WEAR THE MASKS SO OFTEN,
I FORGET I EVEN HAVE THEM ON.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
My heart bleeds blue at midnight. I heard owls hooting in my despair. Alone ,I lay naked underneath the beaming moonlight. I touch slowly my neck and close my eyes. Thinking of a predator I been waiting for a lifetime slowly slithering its warmth on my thighs.So preciously antagonizing my soul with its piercing eyes.It's breath is an intimidating musical hiss. I crave it's injection. Hiss between every piercing kiss.I touched myself harder as the owls hooted into the moonlight. I needed you. Imagining my predator teasing my heated skin with its cold fangs. Immensely waiting for its long hollow teeth to pierce me. While wishing, it instantly became the predator of my heart as it slither around my skin.The music began to start.Predator started to taunt, looking for the sweetest fatal bite.My soul began gasping harder, My predator, oh please prey on me harder.Slither uncontrollably, slither harder as my breaths change heavily. Predator inject itself slowly through every bite.Oh I am in love.It was perfect dosage. This is love. Intoxicating every blood vessel of my body.Every bite,I felt more yours. I instantly became weaker, your bite was the perfect dosage for the **** It was perfect dosage.The perfect poison. This was love. The perfect ********** Underneath the moonlight , vivaciously sweating naked I screamed. Longing more for your touch.The owl hooted once more, morning has come.
I awake , I was loved for the first time.
With its injection ,
The predator righteously own my crimson heart
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
When you think of a drug addict, what do you see?
Someone who’s messed up, depressed, or on the street.
Sadly, there are quite a few of those freaks
They need their daily dosage or their days incomplete.
But what if I told you users aren’t the real drug addict?
It’s the government…. They’re the real drug addicts
But wait isn’t that a little dramatic?
That cant be true! Show me some facts, I demand it!
Alright, alright…. Hold on… if you demand it, here’s some facts then
In 2011 the war on drugs cost 23 billion dollars
But, that’s just the federal budget, you just wait, the states can replicate.
Over 30 billion dollars were put on their plate
That’s 53 billion total, 1716 of every second of every day… isn’t that insane!?
Well yeah, you could say that’s insane, but I’m still not impressed, can you step up your game?
Of course I can do that! I have much more to say!
Okay then, I’m all ears, amaze my brain!
From 1987 to 1995, the corrections budget increased 30% because more and more people were being thrown in the pent
Meanwhile, spending on higher education was on the decent--- 18% to be correct
Ah, that makes sense, but what I don’t get, is how that’s relevant?
Just a sec, I have more to vent
In 2010 21% of those in the pent were in for a drug related offense
And what percent of people do you think had a malicious intent?
Well… I guess you could say slim to none
Right! While educations lacking the proper funds to teach kids what they need to know
Okay, okay, I get what you’re saying now, but I still don’t get why you think the government is the drug addict?
I mean, don’t users spend more on drugs than the government does?
Drugs are expensive, and they take an abundance of money from a users pocket.
Yes, that’s true, they spend more spend more money than the government does
There are 20 million plus who reported using drugs in 2011, they spent around 70 billion dollars to support their love
That’s 3500 dollars spent per user
Meanwhile, just over 7 million people are employed by the gov
You know what that means? Our gov spends 7300 dollars per person employed for the war on drugs.
Wow… I never thought of it like that, those are quite the facts
You know what, that actually makes me mad
Obviously it makes our government a mockery, a living joke of a democracy
I can see why you say the government is a drug addict now
They’re addicted to a war that’s bringing us down
They can’t go a day without spending money on it
And look how successful it has been… pretty prominent their habit is chronic
I even recently heard that more people die from drugs they’re prescribed than drugs that are despised
Yes! I almost forgot that! It’s actually 10 times more people! Isn’t that unbelievable!?
Now, we’re not trying to say we should end the war on drugs
But don’t you think its time the government rethinks their strategy?
Because its obvious the one they have now is a tragedy.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
My edges have no border
I seep & blotch the air
My thoughts a chaotic disorder
Laughing in silent despair
Who am I?
I’m the colorful mix
Of the pills I take at night
Grappling at the latest “fix”
But I never get the dosage right
So broken I shall stay
To listen but not to obey
I’m the perfect daughter
I know I ought to be
Smiling sequined next to my father
A beautiful sight to see
Painted fingertips, quiet lips
But I’m slipping from sexist grips
I’m the crash of atoms & molecules
The patterned DNA that labels our culture
Theorems, functions, evolutionary tools
Poe knew: Science is a “vulture
Whose wings are dull realities”
Fact blinds what my mind sees
Forgive me I’m singing
Of what I am & cannot be
& My ears are still ringing
With who society has asked me to be
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
Anticipation is a powerful drug. It heals suffering
Looking forward to something, such a fantastic feeling
Everyone should experience Anticipation in their lifetime
Everyone will experience Anticipation in their lifetime
Anticipation kills fear and births happiness
It creates smiles and destroys frowns
And that moment
When you finally feel the ****** the result of all built up Anticipation
Truly jaw dropping
Eye opening
Great
Anticipation is not for everyone, especially people who let it consume themselves too much
And of those with Anxiety
Some find it easy to confuse the feeling of Anxiety with the feeling of Anticipation
A silly mistake, easily fixed with a simple dosage of Realization
Warning, side effects of Anticipation may include
Butterflies
Nausea
Diarrhea
Wanting to sleep the day away to make the thing you are anticipating come faster
Loss of appetite
Over-excitement
This does not effect everyone with Anticipation, however,
One side effect that does inflict all is the satisfaction
The satisfaction of the event behind all of this Anticipation
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
As far back as the middle age,
then, Europe planted for our good;
directed wisely by the sage,
that all the places these trees stood,
would be for pleasure and for food,
for friendship, love and loyalty,
that we be not misunderstood.
Come stand beneath the Linden tree.
The others, one tree would upstage;
brought Slovenia nationhood.
All meetings there they would engage
beneath its branches, when they could,
to benefit the neighborhood
and people came from far to see
the rulers of the public good.
Come stand beneath the Linden tree.
The Linden tree, it will assuage
with blossom, root and bark basswood.
Cure you with a proper dosage
so take the tea just as you should.
You'll be filled with such gratitude-
drunk on flower scent heavenly.
Come circle round this fine softwood.
Come stand beneath the Linden tree.
O prince let joy be understood:
Come see the way we live so free.
Come to our homes, come to our wood
Come stand beneath the Linden tree.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
i'll admit it
i'm just trying to score some prozac;
something to supplement the steroids
that never seemed to ease the pain.
my body never
tolerated
anything they gave me:
all their alcohol distraction,
all their **** carelessness,
all their acid lifestyle,
none of it.
as for ecstasy,
i never got the dosage right:
i've been offered ersatz masterpieces
and turned them all down,
so they sacrificed their snatches to other gods,
who happily and hungrily partook in the
appetizing, dangerous bounty for which there is no cure.
i was once appeased for my lust
and committed love crimes,
so i learned not take ecstasy
until i tried the steroids.
i'll admit it
i'm just a pair of eyes
in a white ocean
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 1:46 PM UTC
Sigh
I tap my pen on the desk like my teacher extracting my freedoms
and plastering it on the whiteboard.
He preaches and preaches about how he lost a game of golf last week
I need to take a dosage of education,
But whenever I take it I forget to check the side affects.
SIDE AFFECTS MAY INCLUDE;
-Boredom
-Faeries pulling down on your eye lids making you fall into the pit of sleep.
-Drifting in a car called imagination across this classroom.
-Hands are under mind control as you draw twisters in your notebook .
-NOTE: when you flip back to your notes when you are studying for a test,
they will be useless
Useless like "excuse me sir but is your love for the Broncos going to be on the test?"
I feel like this teacher is testing me not on the subject,
but how long it takes until one of the students in this class to go postal.
Too soon?
Sorry I should ship off my mouth to my mother
cuz mommas got the magic of Clorox Bleach
momma oh momma, use your powers to clean out my filthy mouth
yet he is still talking,
why is he still talking?
I'm still writing this poem,
Should I be writing notes on his college days
Or should I wait until his head lands on this landing strip
So he get his head can leave the clouds
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
There is a fine line between love and hate,
Because both are very powerful feelings.
There is fine line between making perfume
and making poison,
One chemical ingredient, dosage, etc.
Changes the whole solution
And if I'm right,
Poison can never go back to being perfume,
and roses cannot turn red again
and the only thing I'm sure of
is that I can't go back to being young,
And they dare say that your young years are the best,
I'm not.
I'm the poison of my generation,
The perfume gone wrong,
I'm as toxic to myself as I am to others,
May I remind each one of you
of the burden I am,
on your shoulders?
May I remind you that the world turns a way
and I run the other.
And this, my friends, is toxic
I'm like a hamster put in a cage,
exhausted,
on the verge of death
My toxicity,
is the burden of the world,
It spreads like water in the sand,
It spreads like the plague
Toxicity is much worse than death,
It is painful
And consuming
Like a role in a play
In which the curtains never close.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Relativity
Sensibility
If you ain't got perspective
And you ain't reactive
Then you aren't proactive
These words only have meaning
If you make them meaningful
Advice
should be a vice
Get your daily dosage
So in your old age
You can be part of the new age
The thoughts of many
Has wisdom uncanny
If you ain't ready
And you aren't steady
Then you lose yourself
To the crowd
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
-
today,
I was offered the chance to buy
two 40 mg Adderall pills.
At first I though,
"Eh, a nice dime bag sounds better to me"
But then I remembered my school's mandatory drug testing,
and then I remembered this horrible writer's block that has been plaguing me.
I had heard from friends in the past that the amphetamine-salt combo worked wonders for students.
I had heard that the wonder drug made you do stuff. Any stuff. Anything.
You can not sit still after popping over the dosage of Adderall.
You clean your room, you read a book, you write an essay and for me, hopefully, write.
Enough with the ********
It's been about forty minutes since I swallowed one and half pills and ground up and snorted another half of one. Okay.
I feel as though I maybe breathing louder than normal.
Also, I'm not writing one line and then switching over to tumblr as I usually do.
Also, my room is really *****
Also, I've drunk two sprites and ate some leftover Chinese food.
Also, it's really ******* quiet. It's eery.
Also, yesterday in my English class this really nice openly gay kid named Connor walked across the class and as he did so this other kid sitting next to me whispered quite loudly ****** and I did nothing but sit there and angrily stare at my desk.
Also, it's been eating me up inside ever since.
Also, about an hour ago my mom took my (half) baby sister so see her **** of a) father. She said she'd be home around seven thirty and it's seven twenty eight but she's usually late.
Also, I wish she would buy me cigarettes.
Also, it's Thursday and I have a D- in Biology.
****
Also, I might hangout with my friend Ryley tomorrow.
Also, I might become a methamphetamine addict.
Also, I spelled that without using spell check.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
she became submissive to the burning of her throat , that left her on cloud 9
Inhaling the illegal substance to ease her mind of her imperfections and exhaling her biggest fears of morality
She started to lose her morals as time went on
The only thing that left her mouth was smoke that clouded her vision
Wanting to be accepted by everyone she lost her dignity in the big cup of liquor that she managed to down in one gulp
Closing her eyes trying to block out the images of her old life
Fighting the urge to not drink anymore one more cup turned into three , three turned into six ,
Why her?
Adding more ruby red lipstick to her now numb lips to make sure her lips shine through the glossy vision of ***** shadows
she painted a picture of perfectionist in her mind as she applied ruby red lipstick amongst her lips and added a clear coat of lip gloss to seal the secrets
Using massacre to hide every tear drop that left her big brown eyes
As if she was going to war with herself
Her dignity
Her pride
Adding
Blush
Eye shadow
Lip stick
Massacre to seal the battle wounds
Was her daily dosage of forgiveness
Trying to forgive herself for allowing her secrets to smudge as she opened up something that was so pure
Her heart
Looking down at her body she started to feel insecure so she added more blush to her now covered face but she was a makeup artist
Adding more blush to hide the hand prints from the other night
Massacre to hide the tear drops that she managed to squeeze out when her submissive ways battered like a beaten woman that lived in the projects
Eye shadow , that covered the darkness around her eyes because she hasn't slept in days
And finally her favorite ...
Ruby red lipstick to make her stand out even when the lights were off
She wanted everyone to notice her but only covered enough so her imperfect life wouldn't smudge
I am a makeup artist ..
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
He turns the page
Of old age
For what was once the rage
Now sits in his cage
It's been a war to wage
This, life's final stage
The pressure gauge
Ticking on so outrage
Ticking by in ménage
For his book's cleavage
Untouched and derange
Year's wasted and disengaged
If only there was no leakage
Or ever such seepage
Life on his barren range
With no panacea to assuage
No wife ever, no cat, no life to engage
Nothing but red read rage
Now in his final chapter, this cage
This cage, death does he part this rampage
A life perched without marriage
For he married to himself backstage
Where his curtain veiled fruitage
In lieu of looking at the skies for dosage
He fell hostage to his hermitage
Yet this, his bottled pilgrimage
Sinking now in raging montage
He does sit beseeched in his passage
And hopes someday to bid bon voyage
With direr hopes of turning a better page
Logan Robertson
9/27/2018
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
~Enter~
Everything injected
Identity constricted
Breaths restricted
Fights enlisted
Words explicit
Pain inflicted
~Exit~
Withdrawing addiction
Half of me missing
Shaking commencing
Cold sweats kick in
Heartbeats lessening
Death's threatening
~Return~
Suffocation retired
Individuality aspired
Stimulation inspired
Culmination transpired
Life long love desired
Exact dosage is required
~Anchored~
© Tina Thompson
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 8:13 PM UTC
Back home,
There is a boy
With red hair, freckles,
And eyes the shade of blue
His mother calls "lady killers."
He's colorblind;
At least enough to believe
In jellyfish.
His father builds houses
With a rib-less heart
The boy calls home.
His mother,
Sews trust with her spine.
And thirty years later
They still find love
In the lonely isles of
The local Laneco.
His teacher says
He needs a pen pal,
So after school
He writes to me:
"Hi, how are you."
"I'm fine, thanks, and you?"
And then he asks me
What it's like to be
"Grown up"
And just how many
Stars I've scarred
With nothing but the rusty
Edge of my name.
So I fold the
Envelope of this
Crinkled heart into a letter
Of tattered Bibles
From hotel drawers of
Lost loves and dead friends
And find the courage
To tell him what
Being a man means.
I tell him:
We call it growing up
Because boulders
Always roll down.
It's refusing CPR
For every time you drown
In your own pride.
It's loving a girl
For every time she tried.
Tried to
Convince your tunnel vision
That her body is not a cave.
That respecting a woman
Is more important
Than how well you pave
Your parking lot heart.
Shallow like a baking pan.
This is an apology.
For every man
Who ever thought a woman's body
Is the only temple worth praying to.
Making four leaf clovers
From petals of roses
Trying to get lucky.
I know it's not lovely,
To kiss someone who
Is so constantly
Full of ********
And I'll admit it.
I'm not yet
Where I need to be
But I thank God
That I'm no longer
Where I use to
See I'm used to
Smoking way too many
*** scenes to know that
There is not enough
Alcohol in the world
To ever clear my mind.
And I have caused way
Too many Prozac commercials
To know that there is
No effective dosage
For this disorder
Of indecency.
To know that it is
No measure of good health
To be well adjusted
To a sick society
Of mechanical men
Always worried about
Who and when they're going
To plug into.
So I tell him:
You are not a robot,
A computer, or a program.
And your choices are the only
Thing that will ever make you a man.
So strap up your boots,
Bury the ashes,
Shake the dust,
And dandelion your
Heart in every
Direction of home.
But most importantly,
Go easy on the ladies;
Because
The older I get and
More I learn about myself
The more I'm writing
With my eraser
Than with anything else.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
We hardly trust anyone
No matter how genuine that person may be.
We go on pairs throughout our lives because
we believe that we are not satisfied as one.
We sometimes believe that there is a solution
by finding other halves
in people, in stimulators, in distractions
in roles.
We have trouble finding ourselves
and prefer to believe that people stronger than us
or people who appear stronger than us
can help us
and make us better.
We come from bad places
but we are not bad people
despite what we believe.
But we keep a strong face
and solider through
blame and shame
through self-hatred.
We call ourselves names all the times
when no one else does so
so we get our usual dosage of misery.
In the worst cases,
we never believe anything or anyone
and let our hearts die on the pavement
while the sky falls.
And the funniest thing of all?
It's our fault.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
•
The devils situate me in the dungeon,
In this pitch-dark place,
Chains locked to my hands and feet,
I clamor at the top of my lungs,
But only my voice echoed,
And penetrated deep, deep within my soul,
A voice with dejection,
Tears gushed out from my eyes,
All swollen for hours and hours of crying,
My hopes almost diminish,
My prayers weaken,
This little faith lifted my chin up,
But my body is so worn out i can't hold it any longer,
Oh God please help me,
Please save me from here,
Then suddenly,
I passed out,
After awhile i feel two hands holding my face,
I opened my eyes,
But the light is too bright,
I can't see anything,
I close my eyes and listened to the wonderful voice talking marvelously to me,
It's a man's voice!
I open my eyes again and i see a man,
With all white clothes,
And a huge wings behind his back,
I was dumbfounded,
An angel!
Exhiliration enfold me,
And I started weeping silently,
My God answered me! He answered me!
He is my angel,
I slapped my face with my two hands,
I might be dreaming,
But no i am not,
This is totally true!
He stand me up,
I stand up with no troubles,
I was astounded,
No more chains, no more chains !!
I am free, i am free!
In my happiness i hugged him.
One second i was hugging an angel,
Another second I am hugging a man.
Oh, Wow!
That man is him,
The man who did all for me,
The man who saved me from my darkest place,
He took me out of that ghastly place,
And now I am in paradise with him,
He makes me happy all the time,
All the time,
He is always there for me,
Whether I am happy, sad or depress,
He is always there,
He inspires me,
He is my angel,
He help me overcome my demons,
He is my light here on earth,
His radiance shines brightly on me,
And I am beyond happy,
He comforts me,
He is my refuge,
I always have this hope to wake up each day 'cause I know, I know i am gonna see him,
He is my happiness,
My best friend,
The one I can always lean on to,
The one I can always trust,
His smiles are my daily dosage,
His laughs, his jokes are my daily medication.
His love is my supplication,
He is my all, my all,
I learn to extend my patience,
I learn how to be selfless,
He showed me a geniune love,
A love so recherché,
He guides me to the right tract,
And hold my hand so tight and walk with me,
He protects me from bad,
He is my other half,
My preordained one,
My strong king,
What's the best thing in him is,
He pulls me closer to God,
I can't thank him enough for all he do,
He is so amazing to me,
How can i even deserve this?
God had been so good to me,
I am way so blessed,
I am so blessed,
I am gonna show him my love daily,
I am gonna be by his side always,
I am here waiting for him alone,
I am here to love him always,
I won't leave thee,
For you are preordained for me,
My love, my soulmate,
Ohhh goodness Lord,
I praise you oh Lord for all you do,
I thank you for all you have done for me,
I am so blessed Lord,
I am so blessed!
with love <3
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
why is there a line
between living wholly
and holding on to scraps
of grieving our futures
why am i grieving a life
i haven't lived yet?
or why aren't i filling it
with the kindness of years
well lived? when you realize
your own mortality, does it bite
you as hard as it bites me?
you won't talk about it though.
none of us will.
it's a cycle of awareness
i've barely spoken to you because you
are being reminded day in, day out
that breathing is optional to your body
i am sickeningly aware that
my dosage is wrong
and my blood is pounding in my kidneys
and behind my eyes
you're having a series of bad days
i wonder if your body screams like mine
or if the pain ties you in knots
but i know you don't talk about it.
none of us do.
we pretend we're not sick
and that the ringing in our ears
or the bubbling behind our teeth
doesn't mean anything
"it's fine, i'm used to it"
it's not fine.
it is the ultimate self-denial,
the breakdown of our bodies
things we choose to forget
when you chose me,
you chose somebody who knows pain
somebody who is also afraid
and would sometimes rather give up
but you now know someone else
who is grieving.
are you grieving?
i heard that grief
is just love with
no place to go
and life is one of the greatest loves
through life i can love
no matter how my body
wants to take it from me.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC
Let me go in the Dark
I want to be in there
In the space of corpulent, infectious glands
Swallowing innocence with labyrinthine hands
Let me be one with the Night
My home is over there
In a place of ubiquitous fears
And a plethora of basking tears
Let me soak in the abyss
The void is so near
A comely figure,
an evocative sadist and protégé
Dripping candle wax on me
in San Lorenzo, Paraguay
Let me walk among ghosts
In the Portal Del So hotel
Tossing back Xanax;
Vicodin with a liquor chaser
Gin and vermouth, *****
anything to forget her.
Let me wait in living purgatory
With other pods of skin
When the wind shakes the barley,
back home
Where a wife and son
never left me alone.
Let me go in the dark
Past the tortured guilt and sorrow
Where a family is made of flesh
and not ash
Where a house remains
and the fires don’t last
Let me cry and weep in silence
In a room with rotting drapes
A static-channel TV,
a two blade ceiling fan
People engulfed in one another,
A demon for a man
Let me shower in cold, thickening blood
Standing atop broken medicine cabinet glass
So many packs a day of cheap cigarettes
and loose women
None ease the pain
like the morphine in the kitchen.
Let me go into the chasm
The vein snake is thirsty.
I take a little more each time it feeds
But maybe not waking up
is what the snake needs
Let me sleep in the dark
While infomercials for prayer play
Juxtaposed to a zealous vagabond
and father
The last serpentine dosage
for a broken martyr
Let me go in the dark
Let me see them again
I’ll wait and watch the room shrink
And hope my eyes
never dilatorily blink.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Stubborn in stature & determined by untamed will, she is unable to stop herself. Like that tornado that blew through Kansas, yes that tornado, it swept Dorothy away to a world nobody and everybody knows of. Maybe there she can find a prescription to fix her. Find her a brain, courage? Maybe even take her home...
Without control she rebels instinctively out of pure spite.
Her words are uttered in a childish fashion as if there were a need for defense.
Health escapes her thoughts, she feels there is no need for care. No need to pay attention to her body, no need for a responsible mind....she'll let the pills take care of that.....or maybe therapy. But that can spin out of control too. Just fill the bottles up like clockwork. If she doesn't smile, perhaps it was the dosage. There is no need to dwell on the questions in her mind, they come and go so quickly.
"How could they not take me seriously?"
"Why don't they listen to me?"
Tears flow as she falls apart then laughs at the funny parts, because so much of it is......funny. But wait!!!! The madness has only just begun! Anger is the horror of it all, adrenaline and a blackness like a veil covers what is true, she appears possessed in a horrid-dark-angry cloud of violence. Hide the knives!!!! Do not give her access to the pills... this is her torment. And alas the depression reigns. No showers today or maybe all week. She does not want to do anything but sleep. Until the dosage is doubled and finally she feels alive once again.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC