"milligram" poems
In haste,
I took the first woman like a whiskey shot--
every ounce of her scarred my throat
kept me silent, kept me staggering under the weight.
When the bottom shelf love went beyond full bloom,
I vomited her up, leaving me with a headache.
In good conscious,
I took the second woman like an aspirin pill--
every milligram of her alleviated the pain
kept me similar to content, kept me tame.
When the effects wore off and I pined for another drink,
I put her in the cabinet, leaving me rambling nomadic.
In guilt,
I turned myself into the third woman like a penitent criminal--
every liter of her blood solidified
kept me wrapped behind her bars, kept me seeking her good graces.
When the prison sentence drew to a close,
I left her behind, walking with an unwashable history.
The fourth found me frightening,
the fifth just ignored,
the sixth designated me the "other man",
and the elusive seventh only said, "You could do better."
In my mind,
the pills, prisons, and liquor melded --
the days cut short,
the nights grew long,
but I could do better
I could do better
I could do better.
I sold the pills, I poured the whiskey down the sink,
I left prison to the prisoners,
and in the mirror I became a religious practitioner.
To the Church of Better I subscribed.
Sober, lone, and free my cry.
To the darkness I whispered:
I am the resurrection,
I cannot be killed,
I am the resurrection,
the Buddha,
the Jesus,
the Krishna,
the Allah.
I am the resurrection,
born again and again and again.
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
It’s morning and there’s an incoming,
your receptors sense a spark of sadness
so they take it
and mash it
and all of a sudden It’s here:
nothingness.
Staring into the perpetual vastness
of a mind that you have
and there are no signs of life
no remnants of emotion that could indicate
something once lived and breathed and laughed
in this abyss
in this blackness
so until Doc bumps up the milligram
for the fifth time around
I can distract myself
with people, places and plants
and listen to his South African accent
while imagining a planet rational to my mind
devoid of even the most microscopic of organisms.
Not a patio brick
or a single tumble bug of my childhood remains,
only these deep lacerations
veiling the beauty of the land which it scars.
Now it’s noon
and the scuffs on my shoes remind me of you
My mind is racing
while Zoloft takes my sadness
and transmutes it into emptiness;
I’m currently still trying to ascertain
which of them is worse.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Cottonball girls with Q-tip legs dance gently
On Epsom salt beaches
As waves of rubbing alcohol lick their feet.
Father, let us run among them.
Let us clean and clear our faces in their festival of mirrors.
We shall rebury the awful jewels I found
With the failed veiled assassin's prescribed directions.
Rx marks the spot.
You may keep the map, for it keeps you in knowledge.
I do not wish that curse upon my conscience.
You may keep the knowledge, for it keeps you in power.
I do not wish the crown in that course.
Molten
Molten
Forty milligram
Molten
Sterilehappy
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 8:09 PM UTC
7:06
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she crushes ten 0.5 milligram pills of xanax with the **** end of a spoon,
puts half of it up her nose, mixes the rest into a bottle of water along with a koolaid packet.
8:47
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she pulls three more pills from an empty lipstick tube in her bag,
chases them with her koolaid xanax cocktail and checks her email:
for every day that she doesn't change her underwear, she makes twenty dollars,
[email protected] tells her.
9:32
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she snorts three more fat discolored lines in a public bathroom with her best friend.
her friend crushed the pills with a pen that clicked every time she pressed down;
breathe in fast and hold your ******* breath.
10:15
bringing a new weight to the words "high and dry,"
she takes her last pill of the day.
today has cost her at least thirty dollars
as she makes a career out of killing herself.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
i trust no more,
my body is torn,
and my heart on the floor.
betrayal has a bitter taste,
my time was a waste,
and you left without a trace.
fool i am,
my love was not worth a ****
and your care was not even a milligram.
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 4:01 PM UTC
I sit down in tweak town
To jot down a new noun,
A nice verb, a poetic sound,
But all that comes out
Is blah blahs, and doubt.
There’s not enough coffee,
To help satisfy me,
As long as I compare myself,
To everybody else.
So here in caffeine city,
The poetry is witty.
Every verse excites me.
Every line invites me,
To be better.
Speed is my muse,
As long as I let her.
A nicotine lozenge,
Four milligram a piece,
Helps me stay awake,
Until, I am allowed to sleep;
Helps me to stay alert,
Helps me write this verse,
But in the end
The zzzz will hit me worse.
I guess, I should have just gone to bed
Instead.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
The Level of Uncertainty, This Yellow Star
“Even though I’m OK right now,
there’s a sense it could all go
away in a second.”
<>
foreboding,
a disease well known to me,
not “as if,” but in fact
been Cain-marked at
birth to be wary, be watchful,
ever alert, never inert in the
realm of possibilities,
the king
in my universe’s galaxy is the
randomness of existence,
microsecond, milligram minuscule,
muscular instability that even if
unspoke,
danger!
it’s bespoke nature, customized
just for me, lurks, prepared to ****
me into a hard fall, loss of balance
yes,
I prepare with subtleties, minute
measures, discrete and indiscreet,
measured steps, slow-wide turns,
“hands on the railing down the stairs we go”
motto~attitudinal, antithesis~carefree,
for this birthmark was forehead installed
from birth, as a reminder that
reckless abandon
is a countervailing force,
and there are whales in the ocean
and whole coteries of fish in the sea,
waiting, wanting to swallow me whole,
lions across the ocean faraway continents
eager for a nibble of my tender heart,
round **** and
thousands of people
who hate me and my kind, for no reason,
other than my birth mark,
this foreheaded
yellow star,
notifying all eyes, that I am to be dreaded,
feared, for reasons no matter,
just but unjustly
because, I am a Jew
who prays thrice
times daily for peace
for the whole world.
Sat Feb 10
8:35am
Feb 24, 2024
Feb 24, 2024 at 7:46 AM UTC
~
*Restless traveler
sit still,
and look pretty
under the apple tree
the interconnection,
your milligram smile,
best in motion,
you run with honey
you pond and stream,
rivers in your mouth,
the deep taste of survival,
so few will remain, after
the pollinator
with dizzy spells in flight,
a promise flits away
from your swear jar,
you and your wings
mean more to me
than milestones
of osmosis
But is it me
you'll really miss?*
~
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 1:32 PM UTC
I’ve always been afraid
From the moment
They cut me out of
My poor mother’s stomach
Fear has gripped me
With sharp talons
I came into this world crying
And those tears
Have followed me through life
I have panic disorder
Or at least that’s what the internet says
I fear the day I will be forced
To write poetry
On the back of
Prescriptions
The day I start popping pills
Like candy
Just relieve the stress
I don’t want to smile
With a capsule
Between my teeth
Or let my bloodstream run toxic
But at the same time
I don’t want
My heart to drum
Like my nerves are going to war
And I don’t want to leave the house
Crying
I can practically feel the pill
At the back of my throat
I can feel myself choking
The bitterness turning sweet
As the bile
Rushes to meet my taste buds
Sometimes it feels like
I’m training for battle
Like I’m preparing myself
For bullets of Xanax
And Prozac
I don’t even know what a milligram is
I hear it can result
In memory loss
And bleeding gums
And whether or not these are
Urban legends
I don’t know
I’ve watched
Both my brother and sister
Ingest medication
To chase away the depression
I’ve watched my friends
Swallow sleeping pills
To quiet their thoughts
I wonder how can they do it?
How can they just
Open themselves up to sedation?
Allow themselves to
Let go of the familiar
Sadness and fear
Maybe it’s not that
I’m afraid of the pill
But that I’m more afraid
Of the absence of fear
The dark abyss of numbness
I’ve seen medication
Ruin lives
I don’t want to be another statistic
Another number on paper
I don’t want doctors
Going in and out of my head
As if they were old friends
I just want this
To stop
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Weighing the strength of my hand down to a milligram.
Treat beef like green eggs and ham.
Million dollar man with a back up plan.
Standing ground, wherever I land.
Lady luck, playing my hand.
Over look, what they can't understand.
Too busy being a ***** I'm busy being the man.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
Hypothetically, what if I was drunk
or high or ****** beyond repair?
What if I crushed four 2 milligram Xanax
and snorted them up my nose, hypothetically?
What if I packed my hand-blown, inside-out
glass pipe with good green, sticky bud?
And, hypothetically, what if I cut up some fresh powder
and went on a skiing trip that lasted through an eight-ball?
Or what if I dropped LSD in my left eye just to see the lines
combine and streak by?
But what if I was sober and what if I still felt
the same then as I felt was hypothetically *******
What If I loved you?
What if you were all that mattered and
what if you diminished all the other ****
My trip is my way into your life and the road that leads me there is filled with many things, but the psychotropic **** and barbiturates and benztropines and burning hash, I will leave at home because you are the only thing I need to get high.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
250 milligrams of the **** you wish you never said,
laced with sorry's and thoughts of what do we do now's
creep unwanted into our bed.
Don't forget to take it with your 100 milligrams of anger.
That finds home in all the places inside, that you realize you cant tame her.
After that we switch to the heavier stuff ; YEAH! 150 milligrams
of all your secrets and ******** bluffs.
With another 250 milligram dose of all the **** you thought you held close.
all the laughs shared, the tears bared, the constant struggle to always stay
near and dear.
With this final pill i'm addicted to the prescription you made me fill
the last 250 milligrams is human will.
The will to give it a shot. It's a scary high but there i lay with arms held high
waiting for every part of life that your not in to pass me by.
1000 milligrams is all it took for me to be hooked. a ****** or a druggie,
either way i crave from you to love me. so I'll fill my prescription and hope
that the high me reminds you that the sober me still wishes that the love we share
doesn't float away with the high that I'm on. Be my anchor, keep me tied down
with the chemical that we made. The one that tells our brains that our hearts
can truly feel. Without the fall back of 1000 milligram prescription of pills
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Coffee is my life blood
A love affair as strong as I like it
Sweet as I want it
Shots if I'm tired
Weak when I'm wired
All a-bored the caffeine espresso
Oops, I mean express
Express my adoration
The sole foundation
To my motivation
To reach completion
And finish my work
Late at night
Early in the mourning
After the wake-ing
Lazy afternoons
And in the evening
I'll add my sweetening
Or keep it bitter
Like the glares
From my mother
As I fill up another
Cup of smooth, brown freedom
Add some nitro
When I'm dead
To refill my head
With the words that I said
A moment ago
I'll take it blow by blow
Shot by shot
Milligram by milligram
Of caffeine, coffee, constant
Reminder of how easy
It is to get rid
Of exhaustion
Even if only for a moment
Or a lunch break
Or a tired mourning
Or as I write this poem
I love you, coffee
In any way, shape, or form
That you may come
In any size or flavor
To get me to savor
The tang of the coffee
As long as I'm longing
For some more caffeine
My addiction isn't waning
As my love grows for you
With each sip I swallow
And each nickel I borrow
Just to buy
One more cup
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Bloodline Meds are
The pills you need to take everyday
Like clock work
To continue to feel like yourself.
Sometimes you forget
but
somehow, you feel completely unchanged
you feel normal
your think you’ve finally beat it,
no longer a prisoner
no longer held captive by a specific milligram of
assorted medication
It’ll start slowly,
then it will hit you
like a ton of bricks.
cold sweats, aches, chills, nausea
feeling on the brink of death.
When you take bloodline meds
you have to decide
stay captive or go through withdrawal
Either option
you still lose a piece of
Yourself
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
I sit down in tweak town
To jot down a new noun,
A nice verb, a poetic sound,
But all that comes out
Is blah blahs, and doubt.
There’s not enough coffee,
To help satisfy me,
As long as I compare myself,
To everybody else.
So here in caffeine city,
The poetry is witty.
Every verse excites me.
Ever line invites me,
To be better.
Speed is my muse,
As long as I let her.
A nicotine lozenge,
Four milligram a piece,
Helps me stay awake,
Until, I am allowed to sleep;
Helps me to stay alert,
Helps me write this verse,
But in the end
The zzzz will hit me worse.
I guess, I should have just gone to bed
Instead.
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
Ubb drunk, millionth – strange peppercorn
blood shoot. I have found looking
through my skin dangerous –
like reading closer to a line on the edge of a book.
They give me milligram feasts,
balloons suspended from the slim
of my bank hand. When I look out
to the window, birds swim through my eyes
with a message from God
saying
*this is where you began
and we cannot change it.*
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
Don't let me be
acquaintance ancestry.
Celestial bodies deny me peace,
hidden behind moonlight white sheets and
skyscraper evidence markers.
But I, advice malnourished, recede
among the intangible tangents
of lesser-used thoughts.
I let the shadows take me because
maybe they should have a long time ago
and I was too scared to let them out of my veins,
let the crack from my neck
leak the demons and my trust.
Don't let me be
predisposed possibility,
never so whole as seraphs and satanists,
guided by singularity.
My lives were revolutions,
made up of weaker constitutions
encapsulated, a prescription purpose
that guides me past milligram monument men
braver than I was, but already marble ghosts.
Let me be the helpful dream,
the stitcher of seams;
it seems the tie is torn too much,
the threads thrown astray like things lost in space,
too tangled to discern the strongest way to
reinforce the conclusion of my weakness.
Let me be the used-to-be,
the once-was boy who could never see.
Blindness is a condition I accept willingly,
and deafness with it, and warmth's retreat.
Let me be cold, forgotten gold
buried beneath a tombstone treasure map.
Let me go.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Don't let me be
acquaintance ancestry.
Celestial bodies deny me peace,
your sensitivities shielded by a moonlight sheet,
picketed by skyscraper evidence markers.
They died from lust for light, broken trust and fright.
I'm looking for the inevitable morgue.
I, malnourished of day,
recede among the intangible tangents
of lesser-used thoughts.
I let the shadows take me because...
they should have a long time ago
and I was too scared to let them out of my veins,
let the abstract crack on my neck
leak demons and my trust.
Don't let me be
predetermined possibility,
never so whole as seraphs and satanists,
guided by singularity.
My lives were revolutions,
guided by weaker constitutions
encapsulating a prescription purpose
that tours me past milligram monument men,
marble ghosts braver than I am.
Let me be the helpful dream,
the stitcher of seams;
it seems the tie is torn too much,
the threads too thrown astray,
too tangled to discern the strongest chain,
the strongest way to reinforce
the conclusion of my weakness.
Let me be the used-to-be,
the once-was boy who could never see.
Blindness is a condition I accept willingly,
and deafness with it, and old warmth's retreat.
Let me be cold, forgotten gold,
less a frozen dawn than a synapse half-way gone
buried down beneath a tombstone treasure map
with an epitaph two decades long and footnote dates.
I never liked dates, smoke breaks, moments that
persist longer than they should,
like I have.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
A light at the end of the tunnel,
bursting out from the dark,
into four days of
midnight playgrounds
rainbow bracelets
highway lanes and passenger seat,
full of music at four A.M.
A little bit of hurt,
never a milligram of harm,
brings this closer
than standing in front of your desk,
idly moving words between us,
ever could have.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
Ran my anxious index finger
Across the prickly fibers of a fat rope,
Happy to be so bold and strong.
Ready to support with all it's might
Whatever purpose it may encounter-
Just to get the job done.
Ran my tempted index finger
Ever-so-softly against
The cold and smooth shining silver,
Thrilled and contented to be so sharp.
Prepared to make the cut
For whatever repair needs correcting,
Just to make itself useful.
I ran that shaking finger
Over the stinging gray metal of a trigger,
Insistent on projecting it's message
Through freedom cased in an unforgiving bullet.
Ready to kiss my unquiet thoughts to sleep,
Just to protect myself.
Dug my pale, worthless fingers
Through a bottle of carefree little pills,
Hell bent on numbing reality, with each confident milligram.
Safe and secure, ready to stabilize sickness
And pain behind lips that could never explain.
Just to ease the dizziness.
Just to calm the hysteria.
Just to spiral out.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
it's not so much that i'm falling
but rather
i am being pulled
milligram by
milligram
by some outward guidance
other than god,
gravity, or
fate.
i feel fingers
pierce
my body
and move downward,
thumbs getting
caught
in my collarbones
but eventually finding
their way
home.
they grab ahold of all my
organs
and keep them
tight,
as a cloud of
warmth
envelopes me and
holds
me
just as i always
wanted
to
be
held.
all my limbs
weigh 2000 pounds
each-
almost exactly
how it feels
when you take
one
too many
pain pills.
i try to remedy
this by lying
on my stomach but
my hip
bones
bruise my
skin from the
inside
out-
i am
purple
all the way through.
(but only
if you're looking close
enough)
because at first
glance
i am worlds away from
human.
i am something
else
entirely.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
kissing pinot grigio
holding glass to cheek
refilling bottle, drop by drop
each milligram worth its weight in salt water
whatever omniscient is awake and
watching me join the 2am club
for a fifth night in a row
i hope you know i would love to watch you too
we learn such lessons from the loneliness
and remember nothing in the morning
this pillow talk is lost in translation from night to day
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
What is it with you?
Tiny little pill
That makes me crave you
Even though I’m not even ill
You have clouded my judgment
And infected my brain
The way I let you control me
I must be totally insane
I know I should leave you
Discard you for sure
But I can’t seem to shake
Your illicit allure
You always seem to know
How to make me forget
All the things in my life
That fills me with regret
You numb all my pain
And chase away my fear
You take me from my reality
And make everything disappear
How ironic it is
Although my mind is sedated
I feel we are as one
Both poison and encapsulated
I guess I must accept
You’re my companion for life
My life’s guilty pleasure
My 80 milligram wife
So forever we are bound
You have had me from the start
Just one dose of your pleasure
So now it’s till death do us part
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC