Maybe im not the medicine you need

Here it goes

She is suppose to be easy on the eyes

And now overstimulated i can't believe the witness statements

This is boring to me

So she has to learn how to douse it down

Or be herself

But what she

Whats the issue

She has a bigger problem than her breast size

Even though its easy on the eyes

But now im over stimulated

This is just another situation

She's suppose to make me more conscious?

Note it's more self conscious to the obvious

I still dont see what the problem is

She knows its obvious

But now I'm overstimulated

It's too loud
Too bright
Too fast

Too many people
Too much choice
Too much noise

Too many things to go wrong
Too many problems that can't be solved
Too many things to do

Not enough time
Not enough space
Not fast enough to compensate

Can't write it as quick as I think
Can't slow my thought down
Can't explain the inside of my brain

Can't explain
Can't explain
Can't explain

my magnificent mind
has always been a gift
i am in a mystic world
filled with
lively green plants
coated with flower petals
it rained today
mother nature was sad
her and i always feel the same
a twisted funnel in our thick vines
of hair
heartache
because our earth was neglected
the wicked oder from the ocean stamps
our noses with the ink of the
red tide
an ocean of fear
the wave caps curl and burry the dead
pure envy
death is not a place
death is other people
a shoreline of psychedelic tragedy
sand castle graves
lathered in sea salt lotion
overstimulated side effects
my mother gave me the buried treasure
a chest filled with another dimension
built by her daughter
secret garden goddess
of dreams and spirituality
she gave me the key to her soul
threw the honor of mother natures
name and plant aroma
a throne of
leafs and seashell gems
skin of the earth
healing hands of garden therapy
i am my mothers daughter
i will kiss her with
cactus goo lips
as she fills my soul
with mother natures
aura
for
amara

Hello, York Suburban! It’s great to be here today, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be...speaking...than right here...with all of my awesome classmates. I can’t believe we made it here, you know, this was a really great experience, going through school and everything. Back in the day, before our generation became obsessed with social media and electronic stimulation, I used to have a past-time that I greatly enjoyed. I don’t practice this...practice, much anymore, but back when I was young, I used to watch cable tv a lot. I know, I’m really dating myself here. When I say dating myself, I mean, we’ve been dating for a little over 18 years, myself and I, that is. Anyway, watching tv, yes, and when I used to watch tv, I saw what our media portrays as a usual high school life. And much like everything the media portrays, I later found out that high school is nothing like how it is portrayed. I used to think it would be a bunch of young adults standing around, talking about each other, with each other, waiting a few tenths of a second for the studio audience to start laughing, that part was definitely only on tv. (If no laughs, move on. If laughs, say, maybe it wasn’t only on tv). Anyway, yeah, they were all standing around talking on tv, so young, gullible me, I thought  I would just stand around and talk for four years. In order to prepare for this activity known as high school, I proceeded to wear what I thought everyone wanted me to wear, I only expressed myself when I thought I should, not when I wanted to. And for my first year, that was about all I did, more or less. I was scared at first, I was defensive and I loved my life back then, but my life was motivated by fear way too much. My whole life changed after that like the sun changes the sky when it rises. There was a light that came into my life, or should I say, the light came from within myself. I had revelations about my motivations, my beliefs, and how I wanted to live my life. Once I started being who I wanted to be and making choices that were good for me and were the choices I wanted, I started to love myself. During my time at York Suburban, thanks to all of the amazing people I interacted with, I learned to love my life more and more every day. I learned that if I continued to express myself, I would increasingly love myself as well. Expressing yourself is so important because it doesn’t just build your confidence, it builds you! When you express yourself, you learn what you like and don’t like about yourself, and that’s what happened to me. Even though a lot of my high school career was unfortunately spent alone, or feeling isolated in some way or another, I really loved watching other people express themselves and have fun. I always wanted everyone to express themselves more because I learned that I love watching people express themselves, it’s the most beautiful behavior I’ve ever seen and that will never change. I learned so much from every person I had the privilege of interacting with, so thanks everyone, you know, that was really great. I love you all! And that won’t ever change. But I can’t promise I’ll remember all of your names, and I don’t expect you to remember many either. Kids these days, you know, always overstimulated by media and smart phones haha. But when you leave, really take yourself with you! Take yourself and hold on to what you love within yourself. That’s enough, you don’t have to hold on to any memories here. Siddhartha Gautama (also known as Buddha) once said, “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” It’s sad to leave this all behind, but leave it all behind. It’s ok to be happy and remember the good times, but I love you all, I want you to succeed! Don’t just remember memories, create memories! Keep changing yourself, changing people around you, and changing the world until your body runs out of energy! That’s all I ask. I’d like to thank all of the employees here at York Suburban High School for giving our class a healthy and constructive environment, full of excellent role models, and good life lessons. And thanks to my family too, especially my brother Max, he’s really cool. Also, check out my Hello Poetry account, Nick Gati ;) haha. I had to plug at least one electronic media account, this is our generation! And before I leave, I would like to recite a rap that I wrote.

Class of 2015
Let me say what I mean
I’ve been inside this machine
For four years and I’ve seen
People loving and hating
People giving and taking
People in boots shaking
People with hearts breaking
I’m like Kendrick Lamar without the beats or the fame
I’ve got rhyme and time, I’ve got pride and shame
It took me too long to make my life mine
It took me too long, but I’m right on time
I love being weird here before you all
I love it so much, but let me take this call
“Hello? I am currently giving a speech
Before I go to IUP to learn how to teach.
I’ve gotta speak these bars to try to communicate
How all we need is love, we don’t need any hate
So let me hang up, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
MY WHOLE LIFE has been consumed by too much sorrow
It was hard, at times, to navigate my way
I had times where I’d go days not knowing what to say
Until I found all the answers written in my mind
Until I changed myself and became one of a kind
Thank you all for letting me express myself
And express yourself too, leave your pride on the shelf
Love people, love life, and remember these words,
Life is about listening and letting others know that they’re heard

It’s 5:04 AM, as I lie awake going on hour number two.
I dreamt of you,
As I often do.

I always awake with a jolt,
The tangibility of your simulated self
Jarring,
My senses overstimulated as if we had touched for real.

When I ponder on you, on memories of us
In my conscious mind,
I have a difficult time stringing together
The details of you,
Years apart having left your image
Grainy and unfocused, although effervescent.

Yet when my eyes close,
You make your way clear into focus,
Every detail of your physical and spiritual form so vivid
As if I’m really experiencing you,
As if you’re dreaming of me too,
And we’ve actually escaped to another reality
Where nothing has changed or faded.

Is this where we now reside?
The current version of us is no longer compatible with the software of reality,
Our data kept in the cloud
Where dreams are stored.

It isn’t real in the realness of reality,
But it’s so vivid, more lucid than a lucid dream,
That I can’t shake the feeling that I’m experiencing the real you
In the only form I’m now able to download.

my skin tingles, overstimulated by the harmless cotton sheets
my stomach leaps, awakened to the enfolding silk of your skin
we flit in and out of consciousness
like drunken butterflies
my head pounds
I realize
the lamplight
the golden haze of "last night"
swirls of a memory
of ecstasy and an oil black record turning
and stopping
and my hand
reaching to flip it over
only to halt, relax, and slip down the nightstand
I strain my eyelids
remembering the forsaken B-side
every muscle aches
every inch of my flesh is spread with warmth
I reach for you
like I reached for the satin vinyl
but like last night
my hand slips into air
the potency of the illusion, the sensory explosion, the ache of losing
cling to my cold sweat in a bittersweet perfume
in the waking hour

so love,

you left me hanging after all

My voice shrank and my entire body sclerosed to stone
when you lifted a hand because I was never sure
if this time would be the time
you took it too far.

The air left my alveoli, travelled through my bronchioles, trachea,
and out through my clenched teeth as you walked out the door,
safe to escape from my lungs because fear
had paralyzed my diaphragm and
overstimulated my amygdala.

It was always a vicious cycle:
My limbic system remembered the monster that escaped your ribcage
when the rage inside that was instilled in you to win wars
that was never fully extinguished came through
yet the same system processed the love I felt
when you played peek-a-boo with my niece on the grass;
even my brain wasn’t sure what we wanted.

Four weeks had passed since:
I said goodbye to our cat because he was yours now,
I took the trinkets I had scattered to make it our home
rather than your place where I stayed,
I erased sloppy alcohol-kissed love notes from the whiteboard
where I wrote the therapy reminders you ignored.

My mailbox filled with emails riddled with depression and  
post-traumatic stress and worry manifested as a knot in my throat
that made it impossible to breathe so I searched for any spare key
and drove the twenty-seven miles to ensure your safety.  

I grasped the doorknob hard enough to trigger Pacinian corpuscles
throughout my skin, terrified of what was just beyond the threshold.

Ever have a browser open
With many different tabs?
Its a slippery *****
From one tab needed,
To about 20 for no reason
Some only open for a second
Taking up more bandwidth than the
Christmas season
It's like when it slows down, your computer
Is committing the high act of treason
Bleeding onto the overstimulated neurons
That occupy your mind with things so frivolous
And then you see..

The holes in your thoughts and logic creeping and creaking, closer to falling apart
Like listening to someone with a perpetually broken heart
Speak about love purer than the whitest dove
And how they'll never fall apart...

That's what my brain is like
Ive long since given up the fight...

Sometimes I scratch my skin so loose
about whether we would find where happy is hiding
if we thought much less
about these twisting logics,
quieted our overstimulated ambiance
by quieting our own processing
and essentially
not caring so much.

I know I would, would find it somewhere,
but it's funny how that doesn't make me wish
I thought less in time,
I wonder what is brewing in me
that so craves a stormy conscious
rather than what we all cry those late nights about,
because my theory of life
is that the purpose of life
is to find it,
yet part of me seems to care more about the theory
than the truth and action of itself.

I am tired and confused
Insecure and self-abused.
I am awkward. I am shy.
I am goofy, I am dry.
I am grateful, overjoyed.
I am selfish and annoyed.
I am clumsy. I am lazy.
I am laid back. I am crazy.
I am loyal. I’m betrayed.
Sensitive and so afraid.
I’m uncomfortable and lonely.
I am real. I am phony.
I am overstimulated.
I am loving. I am hated.
I am overwhelmed and stressed.
I’m anxious and depressed.
I am ugly. I am sad.
I am innocent. I’m bad.
I am cautious, disappointed.
I’m standoffish and disjointed.
I am curious and caring.
I am strange and overbearing.
I’m mysterious and pained.
A free spirit and contained.
I am sick and I’m distracted.
****** and unattractive.
I am angry I am friendly.
I am boisterous and deadly.
I am laughing. I am crying.
I am funny. I am dying.
I am trapped and I am free.
I’m ****** up, but I am me.

vision blurs, head spins
the lenses in my eyes **** and whir
distracting me from my thought
and capturing me in it at the same time
this is the first time in so long
that i have torn open this wound
and salt seems to have been packed in it ever since...
since we still spoke

i hurt...i have to steady my self to keep from shaking
i havent had a panic attack in months but
if im not careful
i will...
lose it
i was happy thirty seconds ago
but then i
stepped into the wrong place in my brain
and stains of trauma soaked into my spinal cord
and ran down ...getting caught in my lungs

my lungs are already heaving shallow breaths
from being filled with sixth sick day phlegm
..but this...
this is not because i enhaled lye
or took a quick dust bath in it from carelessness

oh but it feels real similar
i dont want to relive anything
i dont need you
but because i still care about you
and i cannot pretend that i dont
and i cannot hide this from myself any better than by shoving it to the back of my mind from whence it occasionally
hop skips onto my
frontal lobe or
my poor misled and overstimulated
amygdala  
and plays with all
the deep and primal waves of tangible
tryst-torn
in my soul
kind of ...

what is this ?

I sense loss and yearning all around
I used to chalk it up as a personal hurdle to jump
or just the feeling of aging while the youth still goes on
Yet I think I this malaise is widespread
Impacting all of us in our glitching global trade

I used to think the issue was there’s just too much now
Too much to watch, listen, and taste
You don’t need the hunt anymore
Don’t need to wait or pay some exorbitant price
I used to feel overstimulated by the streams
and just could not decide
I still feel, it’s not that we want to do the thing,
but we yearn to want to want to do the thing
again

Is that all that’s changed?
Those who are not ready to be creators
will certainly not be ready to be curators
Freed ourselves from DJs and TV programming
but what control have we flailed ourselves into?
Wasting hours a day watching 30 second videos
whose categories are heavily curated
impersonally, just for you
Remember when user preferences worked
and in searches they wouldn’t hide the whole list
of all that was relevant and new?

Dancing, shifting, laughing through an empty light. Movement magnifies my cross of flight. Here we go again into the midnight.
Paralyzed by fear knowing something is wrong. I try to catch myself but my brain has moved on.
I am stuck inside this body with no hard drive. I don't know which circuits are still left on.
I am going through a tunnel or my body starts to float above. It's best to go to night with the lights turn off. Not flicking on and off like a strobe light show.
For I know here we go again and I m paralyze with fear. Can't talk, can't move, or move too much, or stare. Muscle movements, muscle twitches. Switches being overstimulated.
I am locked inside this body with no escape in sight. Please help me Lord! For the snake is  by and he is crawling in my head.
I feel like screaming out let this madness end.
But my voice is gone and he taking me for dead.
I have to breath.......I have to breath that takes all of my focus. I don't like people near by I like to be left alone for I have no control and it's a scary sight.
What you see from the outside is magnified a thousand times for me. For I felt myself falling in a blink of an eye.
It doesn't really matter it's not like you can save me. I cannot even save myself.
See, a gust of wind blew by me, and took me from myself.

I have been misplaced. I wander through a wilderness of population and insanity. To be lost in the woods is a blessing; a thrilling adventure full of serenity and life. But to find oneself entangled in this city? I cannot stand it. Traffic rages around me: an ever present roar of engines and anger. The harsh, whining lights glare off dusty blacktop and blot out the stars that once calmed my soul. Glazed eyes are made aware of my presence, yet do not recognize the human being behind my body. I am simply a face. An object. Something to be honked at, passed over, jostled out of the way. Stone faces and cinder block hearts are hidden behind streetlight stares shut up in mansions of separation. Fear, depression, anxiety and violence run rampant on the streets as each individual loses all hope of community in the rage of the crowd. We are lost. Fallen to the dark madness that screams for our attention and consumes our minds. Media is hurled at these overstimulated children till they crack under the weight of it all. And I stand here, digging my toes into the only scraggly patch of earth to be found, watching the bricks crumble around me. Each one is a face. A soul. A story. They have succumb to the city and fallen in the ash heap. The child within has been starved to death; and a stone faced stranger is all that remains.
I do not belong here! Can you not see? I am a child of wind and woodlands: an imp who dwells in trees and caverns and mountain tops. I run with the rivers and laugh in the rain. With calloused feet and muddy toes; bruised knees and a thousand tiny scars carrying stories. My hair is tangled in leaves and twigs, and my sun kissed nose lies between ruddy, wind burned cheeks. I have a tribe. My very own clan of fellow adventurers. Shall I forsake our union and abandon my family for this beauty depraved land? Our hearts have been melded together, and are now being ripped apart by brute force. I cannot bear it. I am not strong enough to hold all the desperate fragments together. Please, I beg of you. Let me go home.

It's the chills, the chills that you feel scuttling from the edges of your face toward your nose during the thrill of overstimulated excitement, or release. Brought on by physical speed or sensation, a feeling conjured by something audible, a story or a song, a race or the breath exhaled right before you truly test yourself physically, or maybe it's just the view over the pass that you've been hiking to for countless hours that forces your mind to flood it's body and soul with a substance so euphoric that it hovers between a liquid and a gas.

A sensation that grows and multiplies over the surface of your skin. Like a time lapse of grass encroaching on a patch of fresh soil, reaching up with soft blades, ready soon enough to lie down on under the summer sun.

The rippling shiver that makes the skin on your face feel like flowing sand, like a sound check for the nerves in your face saying: "I don't think you can comprehend this feeling right now. Of being alive. The sort of alive that makes you understand how dead you have been your entire life up until now. The sort of alive that makes you question why people spend their entire lives never waking up from their deathbed. Never wanting to get up to feel the blood rush through their veins and test what being alive could really mean."

-Rowan A. Eyzaguirre

I can feel my heart rate slowing
my thoughts caught between going a million miles a minute and lounging in the tempered water of those smarter than me
I am simultaneously comforted and overstimulated by this modern artist who attempts to explain himself in a media foreign to him: words
His reality exists in color fields and weathered linen
In re-stretched canvas and the gentle pull of paint layering itself before him in a matter so beautiful that he's afraid to **** it-ignoring the fact that he's bringing it into existence
To see his work and grasp a whisp of what it is he is trying to convey
This is my drug of choice
To be drunk on the sobering reality that we equally overthink the merging of memories and hapinstances and movement; light and shadow, tints tones and hues, a balance between respect for what the art is trying to do and trying all the while to control it in a manner that it may capitalize on its investment in itself-on our investment
of time, of thought, of failures its taken to get here, of learning
Why would I go searching for something to stimulate my mind when it's nearly 3AM and I can't get it to stop?  Nor do I desire to make it stop
May I be strung out on this gift all the days of my life

i’ve been shuffling through
the flowers and sand
almost like he shuffled through my body
almost like she shuffled through my journal
the suns been beating on my skin
filling me with soul
men ripping away my self respect
violating my body
forcing the imprint of other woman in me
i feel absolutely ******* disgusting
a concoction of distrust and rage and
pure
confusion
and no i don’t think it’s wrong that the only time i feel like the woman i truly am is when i’m overstimulated
my mind is fully open with a vibrant view of mother nature’s world
built on stilts of the sea of trees
plants open wide with laughter as the sun blankets them with warmth

Too much noise
It's all too much
I swear even the air is too loud
Why can't they just shut up?

The skin on my body
Doesn't feel like mine
I need to get it off to feel alright

And the lights
**** the lights
As they blind my sight

Why can't I just leave?

I realized, I can't live without you.
What has it come to.
I feel straddled, scared, not secure.
Up and down, tumbled like a roller-coaster.
Bipolar complexities and nuclear power.
Brains at an over load.
Overthinking , over-analyzing obsessive thoughts of you.
It's annoying, draining, completely mentally exhausting.
I am drawn out, fatigue, over blown.
Overstimulated.

I want you out of my head.
Leave.
Escape my thoughts so I can be at peace.

Split personalities playing mind games again.
The heart of an angel, mind of a joker, the soul of a devil.
Which is which?
Are they all replicas of me?
Versions of me, the worst.
It's black and its white.
Which side wants to be seen today?

Pick one

To have it all and
Pretend to be content
Uncomfortable
Behind walls
Self constructed
Constricted

Autopilot,
Sincerest smile
Removed and reused
Constantly recycled
Carefully Rehearsed
Exhausted

Chemical imbalance
Shadows shifting
Internal conflict
Overstimulated
Collecting control
Repeat upon waking

Blurry motions
Anger dripping down me
overstimulated breath
The immense pain that consumes my body
increases by the second
You would think somebody had set me on fire
by the way the rage burns throughout