"excedrin" poems
This terribleness. The blur of traffic lights and puddles paints Los Angeles on my face at night. It's so hard to know who will doze in my blind spots. Sunflower seeds and ******* lining the carpet. I sat on the front porch for five hours gutting the wolves from my appendices. Usually the headaches go away with the squashing of the lights. Fluorescents are the worst, halogens second, and 60-watt 120-volt light bulb the bane of my existence. I look at my phone but I cannot summon a quirky 120 character quip. I need excedrin but all I have to grape flavored children's aspirin. I should have asked for the water. How many unfinished glasses of water have I left around this world?
Maybe Bruce and I will squash after work. I can hear his weekly catalog of two night stands with those married transient women who drive from Santa B. I hate golf, I could have made carried a career in this resentment. Maybe rolling down the window will alleviate some of this pressure. Maybe it's barometric pressure, The Baby is here in time to drag the houses out to sea. It feels like Michelangelo is carving The David in my head and it's the chiseling I've never wanted. It's Tuesday and the drugs were horrible. They killed five of them today. We wrapped their heads in blankets from the Thrifty, and had to have the interns find clothes that would fit for the Christian caskets. Two days until Giving Thanks Day.
I am wrapped in copper and stuck in amber. I am acquitted by nonsense and stipulation, sick with nausea and pushing my forehead into the steering wheel. This is all terrible. The lying I've never told myself. The people that don't even know it's lying. Her and I always seem to escape with our happiness and pleasure in tow. The odds are slim, but our clothes have never fit too tightly.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
Life is but a series of redundancies strung together. Sitched with tragedy by ****** hands, I only hope not to stain the thread.
Every event in this existence is nothing more than a domino in an endless time loop
, constantly falling/ constantly falling / i am falling.
fact: the name of the spots on domino tiles are called pips and i’ve tried killing myself two times.
The night I snuck 3 orange bottles from the kitchen cupboard and melted into pillows/into bed sheets/ into wooden ikea frame
waking up to not shiny gates but my mother holding a skeleton in the shower
head in a galaxy so far way i almost missed my alarm clock.
i wanted to hit the snooze but got a glass full of charcoal instead.
mm was just how i like my coffee, black and ***** inducing.
fact: charcoal is among the purest forms of carbon as are diamonds
I am not a diamond, but a piece of pyrite. fool’s gold.
The second time two years later involved a bulk bottle of excedrin
one part aspirin, one part tylenol, one part caffeine.
if you ever try to off yourself i don’t recommend this recipe,
dog ear it in your terminal cook book as do not try this at home
you will lie on your bedroom vomitting your intestines until your parents are tired of hearing it
They will make you go to school the next day.
You wont.
fact: The most common causes of death are heart disease and cancer. Suicide is number 11
My world spilled over like a bag of glass marbles hitting the floor
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
in the afternoon we chew our pills,
sweating the backs of knees, armpits,
blessed the skittering of grass on down-brushed
shins.
pulsing behind our eyes, weeping the veins,
shuddering the voltaic nerves. god,
the excedrin.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
Can you cure this flu?
I need relief! I'm appealing to you!
It's a nasty bug making its rounds,
There ain't no cure to be found!
I've tried over counter,
And I've tried herbs,
I'm so miserable, there ain't no words!
But you can't help me, cuz I'm in the red,
So I'll take some excedrin and go to bed.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
i don't even know how to be sad anymore.
all i know is rage.
i know red knuckles burning because
i had to punch the kid in yellow jacket
hands
to melt the rage off of my soul
i just don’t want an angry soul
take my soul
i thought yellow was happy color.
i shouldn't have taken it out on him.
this is fingers tingling.
the bented M on the BMW sign
on my stirring shell
makes me where my anger with pride.
i shouldn't be proud that my fist got stronger.
the crack i made in the mirror in my car looks like the cracks in my rattling bones, that keep digging in the dirt in the graveyard.
why am i obsessed with
skeletons.
broken bodies and souls
need help too.
all of my cancerous thoughts
are molded to
each edge of my
gooey brain.
spilling out of my
temples making the
bottle of excedrin
open
too often
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC