"overdoses" poems
I've been told that a catapiller wrapped snuggly in it's cacoon like the bed-time burrito of my youth feels very simular to the feeling i give when i hug. I've been told that i squeez just right, with the warmth of a summer night. I've been told I hug like a lover seeing her soldier for the first time in years. The few people i hug ask me how i hug so well.
I don't.
I hug with the pain of yesterday.
I hug with the scars on my wrists and the blood on my legs.
I hug with the overdoses, the addictions, the emptyness, the abondonment.
When i hug, i send a message.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
humanity’s great at ignoring ****** abuse, assault, and ****
but when it happens again, humanity’s mouth is agape
humanity’s great at calling girls ****** and *****
and disregarding people’s burns and cuts
humanity’s great at sneering at lesbians and gays
and watching people starve themselves for days
humanity’s great at letting kids use drugs as an escape
and ignoring all the overdoses that are about to take shape
humanity’s great at ridiculing masculine girls and feminine boys
and playing with people’s minds as if they are mere toys
humanity’s great at starting wars over religion and race
thinking that violence will put people in their place
humanity fights all its battles with no mercy or grace
and when humanity realizes his mistake
don’t expect him to show his face
expect nothing but for him to plead his case
and his excuse is that everyone but him is an utter disgrace
humanity’s great at denying people their rights
humanity’s even better at reading people their last rites
humanity’s the best at acting like nothing’s wrong
humanity’s the best at playing along
when really everything around him is falling apart
but don’t you know, humanity has no heart
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
My Sunglasses
I’ve got all of Tucson trapped behind my sunglasses
I’ve framed mountain ranges in the frames of my Raybands
I’ve got reflections of saguaro’s stranding still in front of my eyes
I have sunny days taking refuge underneath my shades
I’ve domesticated the giant star that rides blues skies into walking the edge of my brow
I use black plastic as onyx shields
So Tucson, I see you.
There’s an art revolution beating at your horizon
I’ve seen it skirting around these wastelands
They tell us we’re wasting our time
Telling the roadrunner to run back home
When its nest was here since the beginning of time
Tucson.
I’ve seen folklorico and mariachi pay tribute to your origins on the hottest of days
I’ve seen in the shadows in underground art forms
Graffetti. There’s a protest in there somewhere.
I’ve even witnessed it in pen to paper
In lips to mics. In cafés in your desert nights for your desert nighttime audiences.
Tucson, your culture and artistic value shines too bright for others to see.
Your artistic worth shines too bright for others to broadcast
They tend to only record your overdoses and murders
Seems like our televised story tellers prefer to paint us in immoral reds
The only time they pay the south side attention is when the south side is aching
It doesn’t help that schools force you to choose business
Give you chance to study law all the while cut out your art programs
Fine art is required by universities but they don’t always expect you to get that far.
Tucson’s fine art is too fine and infinite to be recognized by those undeserving
Society wants to capture our southern brethren as outlaws not poets
We’re called the misfit of the desert. As if every spray can, paint stroke, choreographed twist,
Slam poem wasn’t something to take pride in.
I’m sorry they only pay your schools attention when ambulances are parked in your driveways
And administrators get caught in doing ***** deeds.
I see your talent wasted. Your talent shown.
To remind myself of your artistic significance, I’ve framed you
On walks home I photograph your murals.
Listen to the poets in the hallways.
Observe the dancers compose and the musicians choreograph
I’ve caught your reflection in my corneas’.
I’ve dilated my pupils thoughts behind my sunglasses.
Framed your mountain ranges in my frames.
Took cover in your shades.
Trained the artistic freedom and right to walk on my brow
Tucson
I see you.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
One for the morning.
Instructions in the same print
as the side effect warning.
One for the pain.
Another into the vein.
And another,
just so every day stays the same.
One to fill sunshine
In days consumed by rain.
And another
as you lay in bed cold & slain.
Overdoses- the closest
You ever came to seeing it.
You're able, already a being fit
for purpose.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Panasonic and Sony beeping
in custom made Reid & Taylor pockets.
A trade for a Rolex throned on his wrist in lieu of
once existent dreams, in now hollow sockets.
Adrenaline pumping before
high stakes meetings and brunches.
Calculating the dose of his choice of drug,
penthouse suites and timeline crunches.
Dizzy with ambition, painting
******* bleached canvasses.
Narcissistic laughter aimed to beguile others,
he, for whom his relaxants are stresses.
Dealing with the Devil himself,
power tainted and ill-gotten,
the realization that humans are not beyond sale;
in markets, mergers and acquisitions.
Recessions, Inflations, cruel overdoses
of risk, of danger unspoken.
And when he surfaces again to consciousness,
profits, losses both taken and broken.
Lost in the sewers filled with;
stock brokers and agents alike: the pawnors,
a haughty expression with green bills,
to score his ecstasy, capital owners.
Another dollar, another hit
never enough to sleep remembering the day.
A Corporate ****** scouring for riches,
a high, a trance not soon before long will sway.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
what is wrong with society?
children are crying.
teens are dying.
drug overdoses, suicides.
they cant make up their minds.
smoking dope
they have no hope.
knives are no longer used for food,
now used as an escape from your mood
dudes are getting nudes.
girls are getting exposed,
there getting called hoes.
she's 8 and crying,
her sisters upstairs dying
not physically but mentally
bullies, insecurities.
all caused by what?
society.
you can be hated, sedated
depressed , stressed, or even messed.
but in society,
you're only accepted if your well dressed, pretty,
powerful, or successful.
no one will ever care unless you're pretty or dead .
and that's the truth everything that must be said has been said and done.
-psm
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
what are you addicted to?
What you on?
Oxycoton?
Percoset?
Methadone?
Vicodin?
****
Xanax
Diesel
Dope?
Krocodil?
or...
Just jack and ****
they tell me *** is dangerous...
I have nothing today
and so much things to say
Did your best friend get shot 72 times on
Thursday?
On the woodpile
or
In the passenger seat?
Wife take everything
And leave you
After 30 years?
You homeless now?
Or just broke-in.
Did Your wife die:
An intentional dose of an incidentally fatal
Dope?
Did you husband-
An engineer for Ford Motor company
Get burned alive?
black
Was it you
who
found the ashes?
Did they throw you in prison
For your depression?
You have addictions
And a little help
But no music-
Ipods
are not allowed here
and
You are grasping at existence but
existance
don't seem to know you
no-more
Your still breathing
Though
You haven't failed at existence itself
yet
Impulsive
destructive
What chemicals are they feeding you
In your cages?
T.T. has 17
medications but
she almost got killed last night
Because she's allergic
to aspirin.
Are they treating you with
Risperdal?
Or
Lamictal like me?
Is it helping-
or making it ten times worse?
making
any difference at all?
It's called practice and we are
the test-tube
Jon's heart has been in defib 8-times
twice due to accidental overdoses
by doctors
We can have too-many
anything.
I don't believe in accidents
though
no more.
seen-too many
felt-too much
You self-admitted and
at least your still breathing
this place is full of madness but here at 1-east
we're still dreaming.
pax 2013
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
*Serenity Echoing In Reverse,
Stagnant Resolutions Choking Her Universe,
Submerging Her Dreams Into A Sterilized Verse.
Sedated In Perpetual Twilights,
Mechanical Love & ****** Satellites,
She Whispers Essences Of Kryptonite.
Victim To A Perpetual Reaction,
She Transforms Into A Violet Abstraction,
Echoing Prismatic Deflections.
Technician To Her Own Serenades,
She Embraces Her Heartache Blockades,
Overdosing On Intoxicating Escapades.
Evoking Constellations Of His Ionized Memories,
She Overdoses On Comatose Reveries,
And Spectral Illusions Of Synthetic Stories.
Amplifications So Sacred & Profane,
Simulations Raving Into Codependent Stains,
Fragmentations Entranced In Her Bulletproof Frames.
Cherub Starlight & Everlasting Gaze,
Transitions Fusing Into Astral Maze,
The Essence Of Ecstasy Of His Sentiments Sways.*
- 04:27AM
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 5:57 PM UTC
Hearts break and it surely hurts when they do
Constant feelings of regret
So many unfulfilled wishes
Wishes for an immediate remedy
Even when the heart is not ready
Not ready to love again
But it hurts when the heart breaks
And the wishes are all about wishing for new love
New love to soothe the fresh wounds
New love to cover the scars
Scars from the past disappointments
But because of the newly lost love,
Missed appointments,
Rejected calls and non-replied texts.
Less hours of work and increased time of not being productive
Reduced creativity and more feeling of loneliness
All because of what you once had but can't now dare to wish for
When the heart breaks,it surely hearts
And it takes a brave one to survive
We've heard many stories of them that din't manage
Suicidal thoughts that were fulfilled
Overdoses that were self-administered
And former lovers that were sacrificed
All because of lost love
I wish to belong in a world where we would find our love once and for all
With no worries about disappointment or heartbreak
No worry of finding your only ONE with your so-called best-friend
All this because I love love and love to be loved back
But every heartbreak makes it hard to love again
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 5:01 AM UTC
Silver-sided rattle,
a humble streak climbing
the hill in small doses.
Blue teardrop seats,
steel and yellow poles,
broad-eyed windows that offer
the view of things that the subway
will never give.
I've seen fistfights,
a baby born, overdoses,
old women falling asleep,
old men screaming wordlessly,
junkies scrambling for pills
dropped underfoot,
tourists grappling with the geometry
of this unknown language,
all of it.
Vibrating with a menacing stumble,
it attracts everyone. It promises
a view and a destination.
It's better to go through the world
than to sink below it.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
I loved you in a way that
all my medicines would like me to
love them too
but your words have more
impact on me than all the
possible
overdoses
i could ever have.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
The country just outside the city, a good place for me to hide
Swallowing Xanax with 40oz's, swallowing my pride
To all those people taking it in stride
How bitterly I loathe thee
Your adjunct faith sickens me
In abject jealousy
Truly yours
Here I sit crushed like the cans underneath me
Smashed like the empty bottles I threw from 10th floor windows
If you throw it hard enough you can hear it crash into the river below
The sound of settling, sinking cement laden feet
Food for fish to grow
To be cast over so easily, as these glass encased temporary lies
Were it that I was not such a coward
All shallow cuts and shallow gestures
Washing down empty overdoses in vain vacillating hope
For a new death
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
THE SHADOWS PALMS
STRETCHED IN THE EBONY ROADS
MUSING ON THE BLOCKS OF RUGGED STONE STEPS
GARNERED AND GATHERED BY CHAFED PALMS.
STRADDLING OVER THEM
THE DEEP FURROWS AND HEATED BROWS
NOW BROWN AND TANNED WEARING
A RUMMAGED MOUSTACHE OF CLIMBING VINES.
EVERY STEP AMUSES,
A MUSE THAT DOES NOT CEASE TO AMUSE,
IN THE HEAT OVERDOSES.
AND WHEN THE ARECA PALMS PALIPATING
IN ARRAY
HOIST ABOUT LIKE ROWS OF MEN DOPED
IN CEILED BANKS OF DISTRUST
A CYNICAL NILA CRIES ,
HER PLUNDERED SANDS.
NOW THE SUNKEN FERRIES ,
HAVE APPEARED AT HER BAY,
AND PAINFULLY CHAFE EACH OTHER.
A ***** FROM THE BOTTOM
STIRRING THE BELL FOR THE REQUIEM
PAY THE FERRYMEN.
FOR THE WAYFARERS WAFFLED WRITINGS
ARE ADDRESSED
TO THE MEN WHO PLASTERED HER WALLS ALONE
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:31 AM UTC
My guru skinnydips in multi-colored waterbeds.
Listen!
A pop festival blows bubbles in free flashbacks.
Dig it, brother!
John Lennon overdoses on the agony of paisley bellbottoms.
Will the Grateful Dead give shotguns with laid back madness?
Eric Clapton quivers in Janis Joplin's windowpane.
Oh, how Timothy Leary plays lead with strung out drug busts!
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
**** self-importance
**** empty words
**** manipulations
**** your overdoses
it's all nothing
if you can’t sleep well
actually
you can be healthy
without even training
you can understand
without words in your head
you can die
without doubts
you can control your life
your body has an implicit knowledge
but you too stupid and lazy to learn it
so do I
time to time
but I will try my best
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 2:24 PM UTC
There is an other, there, in the mirror. Memory space. A body without a head.
There is movement. Abstract thought.
A girl moves her lips. Air brushes against your own, but it is foreign. The staccato of her breath moulds waves of language. Indivisible meaning that slips your grasp.
Traffic stills. Fumes rise from cracked pavement. A child sleeps under a rusting skyline. A mother overdoses.
It is Autumn. Cold snatches another eight, or eighty. Cells rearrange, and a man finds himself changed. He holds a knife to your throat. You laugh until he cries.
The train comes late. You walk around the block to **** time. You find you no longer recognise the buildings surrounding you.
There is misery in your reflection, but it is just the other looking back and smiling.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
The only way I can do something is by contradicting myself.
Contradicting myself to the point where I don't want to do anything.
At the point where anxiety take over and grips my throat and my mind overdoses on hatred towards the world.
At the tipping point of letting go when the person that's holding me is me.
My mind can be at a blank and then out of nowhere it can feel like it needs to overdose on Adderall because it can't shut up -- when the only thing I'm trying to do is to look for a moment where anxiety doesn't take up every existence of my brain.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
In the morning,
she spins
circles around me
like a small child
gleeful.
At noon,
she's drunk on life,
swooning love.
And by suppertime,
she's strung out,
overdosed on
the sacredness
of another day.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
For every emotion songs have already been written:
poetries and sonnets,
angry beats and ****** ballads.
My more positive, happier self is an extra-terrestrial being
from galaxies far away:
No cutting off fins from sharks. Unlike lizards’ tails
fins don’t grow back.
Love. Respect.
No ceramic idols lining the windows
their empty gazes crawling up your spine.
No empty promises. No magic cures for baldness.
Phones on mute during class. Eat sensibly.
Take a breather – life is not a race
to the finish line. Have cleaner washrooms.
Less unwanted criticisms. Less trance.
Love thy country.
Pin-striped shorts
from M&S; Stronger will.
No slitting wrists or overdoses. Suspend disbelief.
No secret candy stashes. Do your laundry without being told.
Omit racism, misanthropy. Wilted flowers by the windowsill.
No secret phone calls in the middle of the night.
Who are you afraid of? Almost and nearly don’t count.
Come home.
Forgive favorite band for disappointing album.
Be kinder to puppies.
Brood, not rant. Skulk, not stalk.
Get my name right.
Don’t drink and drive.
There are no gays, no lesbians, only
people with feelings.
Fight, not flight.
Have more 24-hour pizza places.
Avoid politicians, traitors, lawyers.
No throwing around words like vociferance,
vociferate, vociferous.
Accept fate – don’t be a martyr;
One day everything fades
so hold on to
all your post-it memory
until every star
turns to dust.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
There will always be that one person,
Who will forever stick in your mind,
Who you knew you could have saved,
Had you only walked the line,
And to that person I am sorry,
I am sorry I ever let you go,
That I let go of your hand and watched you fall,
That I gave nothing, while you bore it all,
I am sorry for all the secrets I kept,
And for all the burdens I permitted,
I wish I hadn't run, that I was able to accept,
The truth for what it was, but I was too young.
I was too young and selfish,
Too needy and naive,
I was too focused on a wish,
Reality was too hard to perceive,
I never saw the difference between smoke and *******
I couldn't see how it crystalized and destroyed your brain,
I rejected the fear of overdoses and excessive ****
I never thought a lifestyle would become your death,
I am sorry I only ever pushed you once,
I would have done it a thousand more times,
If it could have saved those crazy eyes; that beautiful smile,
If it meant your body wouldn't become a John Doe on file.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
Childhood best friend overdoses.
Current best friend's dad dies by cancer's ***** hand.
Makes a new best friend
Gets a boyfriend
No, scratch that
Gets a guy who wants to be her boyfriend
Isn't that what you've always wanted?
Goes on her first date
Quits smoking
Starts smoking
In the pretentious town where popular kids are too good to smoke cigarettes.
Tells the wannabe boyfriend who is nine years older than her
Recovering drug addict
Unstable
She doesn't do clingy
When she begins to cling to a boy
Two years younger than she is.
Lets the first boy text her constantly
Doesn't stop
Wants to tell him to stop
Won't stop.
Hangs out with bums and cheats
Or, recovering.
Reconnects with a grade school friend
Watches her relapse two weeks after returning from rehab
It was only alcohol.
****** was her drug of choice
Alcohol reigned second in command.
***** her ex
As her grandpa lays dying
The only words she hears from him are
"I love you."
Funny how her ex says the same thing
They sling "I love you" across their lips
Swinging them left and right
Like popcorn across a Christmas tree
Empty sockets of air
Then ****
Gone.
Everything is
Gone.
Can't reason with herself
To stop.
Seems to be the consistent pattern
She can't stop.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
Who am I? You ask me
I'm the girl who drinks everyday
The one who overdoses on medicine
Takes pills for no reason
Finding new ways to hurt myself
Without bleeding of my skin
I'm a lonely, sensitive girl
I avoid people most of the time
But I have friends around
Talk about things that astound
I'm strange, they're strange
We're all pretty chill
I'm also the girl who hazes
4:20 AM/PM, that's my fave time
When I'm stressed, I take a hit
No way I'm throwing a fit
Especially when I'm high
Wanting to forget everything
That girl with many flaws
Just like any other teenager
Who could love an addict like me
I'm here, nowhere to flee
May there's someone out there
Who would love me no matter what
That's me, all in this one poem
You can stop reading here
It ain't going any further
Like killer committing ******
The poem ends here
Now I'll get my lighter; time to get high
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
shot into my very own world, right here
an all enclosing space, save for the exit wound.
& today I'm deciding that you can't come through.
this is mine, this is what I've built.
I'm neither leaving nor letting you in this time
I earned my place, and I'm not giving it up for any one.
but especially you.
new emblems and no overdoses,
walking the sidewalk squares in a strange osmosis.
I don't need your "clarity".
**** you.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Shun the elixir, the demon water, the Irishman's albatross!
Liver cirrhosis and overdoses, we wander until we are lost
The Prodigal's son, returned in the flesh, but his mind had been left behind
He was withered and scarred and the wounds that he bare could not even be healed by time
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
my mouth tastes like overdoses and stale diet coke
lingering on my taste buds with the jet-dry
and cigarette smoke.
my lips feel like sweaty kisses and chocolate cheese cake
brushing my fingers against the cracks
and the tiny 'i bit my lip' cuts.
my hands smell like rust and blood
dirt wasting away under my fingernails with the
tobacco stains and yellow paint.
(imperfections don't make me lovely,
they make me revolting)
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 5:33 PM UTC