"sedatives" poems
3153 miles away I lay with a mind that's clouded with thoughts. Past Scenarios playing out differently. Over analyzing the present. Anticipating the emotion that I will feel in the future. If ever I was consumed it has never been like this. Regret comes and fades. optimism shares that same cycle. Happiness And sadness come in doses like sedatives. The voice of jealousy tells me that hope makes me weak. Anger fuels my fire and logic keeps it burning. Yet voices, Medication, and the embers fade. The constant variables are only wondering and anxiety. Peace comes in sleep and yet its hardly enjoyed.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
The purity is mysterious
Questionable at best
Subjective additives aiding the escape from a benign reality.
Harsh sedatives cloud my body
Instant relief from the mundane
It's flame burns in my veins
This beast, is becoming difficult to tame
Beat it or fall prey, it's really all the same.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
You bring me good news from the clinic,
Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white
Mummy-cloths, smiling: I'm all right.
When I was nine, a lime-green anesthetist
Fed me banana-gas through a frog mask. The nauseous vault
Boomed with bad dreams and the Jovian voices of surgeons.
Then mother swam up, holding a tin basin.
O I was sick.
They've changed all that. Traveling
**** as Cleopatra in my well-boiled hospital shift,
Fizzy with sedatives and unusually humorous,
I roll to an anteroom where a kind man
Fists my fingers for me. He makes me feel something precious
Is leaking from the finger-vents. At the count of two,
Darkness wipes me out like chalk on a blackboard. . .
I don't know a thing.
For five days I lie in secret,
Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
Even my best friend thinks I'm in the country.
Skin doesn't have roots, it peels away easy as paper.
When I grin, the stitches tauten. I grow backward. I'm twenty,
Broody and in long skirts on my first husband's sofa, my fingers
Buried in the lambswool of the dead poodle;
I hadn't a cat yet.
Now she's done for, the dewlapped lady
I watched settle, line by line, in my mirror—
Old sock-face, sagged on a darning egg.
They've trapped her in some laboratory jar.
Let her die there, or wither incessantly for the next fifty years,
Nodding and rocking and ********* her thin hair.
Mother to myself, I wake swaddled in gauze,
Pink and smooth as a baby.
5.3k
eye lids move slowly
over the eyeballs
in an effort to garner
sleep to a worn out
body to restore the
metabolism to normality
yet sleep eludes
the slight movement
of the eyelids never felt before
is sensed as the brine tear
a lubricant between the interface
where surface tension dominates
all other forces of physics
what force dominates my heart?
I know not
and sleep eludes me
Unconstrained emotions flow
around like unsettled dust
particles glowing in the sunlight
that escapes in through a ventilator hole
sedatives themselves are sedated
and sleep eludes me
I still have five more days I foresee
before hallucinations and delusions
take over me
before that oh sleep like gandalf
arriving at helms deep
please come back to me
but not at the breaking of the dawn
not when light is bright
but in silence of the mysterious night
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
I know it's out there somewhere
the elusive balm of sleep.
I've tried an evening toddy
and I'm running out of sheep.
Prescriptions drugs and sedatives
placebos, they must be.
Because my eyelids won't stay shut
there's far to much to see.
The REM my body craves
is like a hidden itch.
I know I need to scratch it
but can't FIND that son of a *****
And so I lie in darkness
and stare up at the fan.
I try to count rotations
while making up a plan.
The Sandman's on vacation.
I guess i'll read a book.
I listen to some sound effects
a breeze and babbling brook.
I may just have the answer.
A hammer is the cure.
But such a headache I would get!
That has no real allure.
Desperation beckons.
I'm teetering on the brink.
I'd give a lot for just a bit
( ten dollars for a wink?)
My eyes are red and swollen.
My jaw is sore and raw.
The yawns are coming faster now
there oughta be a law.
I'll see you in the morning.
Sweet dreams if sleep you can.
For me...I'll just go meditate
and watch that ceiling fan.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
There’s an offering of change
Vitamin pills and get rich schemes
Selling a better life
A shot of paradise
In a series of halogen bulbs
All the tunnels lead to Mexico
The hidden hand on demand
Working off in the shadows
Maybe they’re hiding in plain sight
Just a crazy thought that crossed my mind
Now I’m holding out for truth
Amongst the sedatives
Now everything I see
Is played out on a broken touch screen
And now the ship is sunk
Let’s get down to the bar
I need to see the sun come up
before I start to come down
Johnny was a head-case man
All the things they did to him
And when the rich men left
And when he finally slept
He’d sleep for an hour or two
In a punch-drunk afternoon
All of the chemicals
Working off in the shadows
It’s no wonder he took his life
Just a crazy thought that crossed my mind
Now I’m holding out for truth
Amongst the sedatives
Now everything I see
Is played out on a broken touch screen
And now the ship is sunk
Let’s get down to the bar
I need to see the sun
Come up before I start to come down
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
caveat! —bursting out as the fuse fetters away
wafting t'ward oil spills, tranquilized guns
with pace maker minds
and time to ****
sickle celled, graving shores
plead to crawl underground
through cascading bile and sedatives
that sift through these negatives
like bangled thieves
who crawl on broken knees
and lie idle under haunted bridges.
bouldered bones intertwine
or veins cut along a dotted line
caveat! cries the sayer's sooth,
for he says it scours and devours—
the slinking nightmare sleuth.
the tar is interrupted in carved equinoxes
soak in the crippled toxins
as the air becomes as thick as theophany
and tharm like grease in blood that take me in,
through ash and mud and
all the spider webs caving in
like delicate gorges forges beneath
nightmare sleuth reaching zenith
caveat, silhouettes
stretched out like oil in water
and this silicon tomb can hold me no longer
for i must break out before i am a goner
because it's a mistake that i'll never shake
your face turns opaque
and there was nothing in your eyes
but dripping flesh
wring out all your words for me
your jeers and your juries
but go cling to your crutch
your kings and your qualms
and the church that burns
in its hallow vacancy
for none can resist the urge
that thieves its delinquents from catatonic catacombs
and quagmire junctions
where the swamp will **** you in
and festering sweat sticks like guilt to your skin
and hell is a nightclub where every loss is a life
and heaven's a daydream with your neck to the knife
it needs no rhyme or reason
and every slip of your broken lip
just lose your grip and give in to the treason
would you rather burn at the stake
than suffer your cement heart break
with no reason or rhyme
it's just the weight of the season
backdrop collapse
railroads unfolding
and like a cell storm the train
is coming your way
and slinks away like a nightmare sleuth
it just takes one swipe of the claw
or one bite of the tooth
and it drags you in
feel the sidewalk sleeping
and the blinking lights creeping
above the overpass
and the cold wind reeling--
it'll be your last.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 6:36 PM UTC
The lush life
is nothing but a vain and vapid vortex,
a flimsy, futile fairytale
a cocoon of careless confidence that I eventually found not to be the key of the golden cave but instead an empty carcass we carry without courage.
I'm stuck in this spinning spiral that ***** us in without a sound, this swaying so strong it makes us sweat
So to avoid the sting of sensitivity we seek the salvation of soothing sedatives...to escape the lasting lies of the lush life.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 5:41 PM UTC
So many lies from her to me
please don't tell him I'm pregnant
I was ***** she told the clinic
and me
the baby seems big for three months.....
but clinics get money for this
and charities give grants
they don't ask too many questions
6 hrs crying and screaming
till they chopped it up and ****** it through
a young doctor panicking
haven't destroyed one this big before have you you ****
took a long hooked thing to really mess the wee thing up
I saw it's dead eyes in the pan
her dead eyes
half-open and in a silent scream
where is the ******* dad? The nurse whispered..
somewhere ****** I said, I'm just her pal.
Dad didn't want a small thing in his life
my hands bled from her nails
and this felt right
my heart bled despair for her and the mess in the pan
took her home in a taxi suspicious eyes on us, huddled smelling of sweat and blood, no clean-up
she wanted to stay as soiled as she felt
Year later in another room
couldn't *** she wouldn't let me leave her
got a urinary infection holding on
longer this time
thirteen hours of pain and fright
no-one seemed to care again
on a trolly in the cold where is the magic
where is the ******* dad? A nurse whispered..
somewhere ****** I am just her pal.
twisting my hands
she bit my face wanting a kiss as she pushed so hard
the midwife dropped him halfway up her belly
I dragged him to her face
let go the doctor shouted
told him to shut up or **** off
got yellow baby **** and blood in my mouth
wanted doctor blood too
tasted sweet somehow tasted of alive
took 83 sedatives that night her sister found me in ICU
hard to die swap me for the wee dead one
I'm ****** she would have been special saw her face
She would have been 14 yrs old today
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 2:39 PM UTC
My head is sore
From dreaming with my eyes open
And floating without leaving the ground
My nose is numb
Often it snows, blue and white
Trying to erase mistakes burned inside my mind,
but it melts too quickly
My throat is singed
From stress-causing stress relievers
And paranoia-producing mental sedatives
My stomach aches
From trying to find myself
But becoming more lost than I have ever been in the process
Reality escapes have become reality
And life has become the terrifying emptiness
occurring when I am too broke to fake-forget my feelings
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
Muse hasn’t left my bedside for days:
she races around
the garden when I sleep:
it’s the only time she leaves,
she’s so loyal.
A few days ago, I heard Muse barking
in the garden;
I knew she’d seen the woodpecker again.
I’ve learnt the differences in her voice:
this is what comes of weeks bedbound.
But when the sedatives wear off
I can do more than lie there:
I can feel the touch from my grandma,
I can smell last night’s family supper,
I’m lucid.
Yesterday, the electroconvulsive therapy shocked my brain
today, my muscles feel as knotted
as my oesophagus.
I’m on my back now; my only company
is the ceiling; not even
the canopy of stars I once gazed at with joy.
© Sia Jane
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
And I wander why I'm here
And your there and there's nowhere inbetween for us to go
And why if there was
You couldn't take me anyway.
Wind mills in our skulls
So fast we can't get a grasp on.
Pretty pills
As we stare out
Of barred windowsills
You tell me you don't understand,
as you hold my hand and demand to know why.
And I sit and cry and tell you I wish you could, I wish you understood
But how can I expect you too
When I have no clue?
Cos your mind isn't fractured
Into hundreds of unrecognisable pieces
Creases
That they try to iron out
And glue together with
Sedatives and weight gain
And cognitive behavioural therapy
That they insist will numb the pain
&fix; the problem.
But i don't know the problem
Because I've skipped in and out of diagnoses ever since i was
Placed into this space
A taste of hell and heaven all at the same time
Where it's okay not to be okay
But it's not okay to be okay
And you get named and blamed and excused and used as examples
For nurses to observe
You're a learning curve
In their degree. Or for a student studying psychology
And no matter what anyone says
It doesn't curb the reality
That you are sick.
Too sick to take care of yourself
To keep safe your health
Your body, your mind
To hold yourself
Together,
An it's strange because
They try to rearrange
All our thoughts and processes
But they don't undress the primary cause
They caress plaus-able reasons
Excluding your explanations
Satisfied with their own gratifications.
2013 ©
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
The steps still creaked
Even though the breathe on my neck has been stale for a week
I miss you more than ever
Severed by ties uncompressing measures
I just want you to come back home
I can show you how much Ive grown
So much I can show
Im a different person,
I learned from my mistakes and less will be made
Without you
Is like driving on the fumes of gasoline
From which has become empty
Right before you drove to end of the earth with me
We’re different from other couples
Without all of the ********
Without any titles
Were just homegrown lovers caught between the cycles
Of peace and suffer
Life or death
Love or Hate
Its not that the world is a bad place but sometimes Im left with a bad taste
In my mouth I can still feel your tongue ever so soft rolling around
As does mine
Feeling your heart beat as we disregard the oh so punctual time
It doesn’t matter when Im with you
We could drive with no destination
Talk with nothing thought of as a conclusion
You know what I mean?
Something about you changes me
Like the sun when it sets on the trees
Do you remember that day?
It was perfect
Everything Ive ever wanted
Just the two of us watching the verses of the world change
Into a symphonic chores blowing our minds to an oblivion away
If only you could see what I see
What crawls in the bed with me
Just to feel my ever rising heart beat
I miss that
I mean,
I miss you
I miss you more than ever
The way your smile crinkles your nose
Your eyes so bright when we used to get ******
Together!
Soft meadows of apple blossom skin,
Just a touch and Im off on a binge
I can’t get enough of the way you make me feel
Your love is truly my drug
Im sorry for yelling
Im sorry for telling you all of those things I didn’t mean
In a way that made you slam the door and leave
Me alone
In this house, just a haunted memory of a door being closed and you’re gone forever
Nothing but the memories to make me better
Only for a moment
Like a cigarette you think you’ll just have one
You think it’ll be fun
But then your hooked
I know this seems crazy
I know I wouldn’t say it
I was scared you wouldn’t believe it
I was scared you might forget it
But I love you with more of my heart then I can handle
I feel myself slipping away as though the sedatives have finally found my still so sober veins
I might not wake from this
I might not see you again
Just promise me one thing
Love with all your heart, and soon birds will begin to sing
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
room for members only
inclusion to the party or left outside
for some reason, you’re not good enough - - - go away!
racks and rows of sorrowful pain come beating, like rain
in an endless circuit, it runs a spool
subtlety plays its wicked game of tug and pull, and horror is a resident in a dilapidated hostel
croakers dive into lucky packets, curing ails by tearing off layers of skin
these leechcrafters perfect the axiom, regurgitating sedatives to enact fever struck pattern
sawing bones into finest dust stream, disabling balm by wilting growth
only the knowers know what’s happening
keep the outsiders out
it’s a secret party - - - not all are welcomed
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Great fades to gray
where commonplace turns to decay
where the abnormal becomes negatively neurological
which leads to the ingestion of government sector sedatives
and we wonder why segregation of brain and mind is prominent
promises never kept and mind that never gets better
but before we fix the broken we must make you broke.
Objects in the mirror to fit society's standards
E news, TMZ, fox- all the new cancer.
Throw your money at it
make it go away
and watch in awe as the auction of your autonomy accelerates-
your mind is money to the highest bidder
and they don't budge when they watch your wallet quiver.
Quiet in the courtroom-
little Kyle's got a drug charge
searched his car without consent
convict at the age of sixteen
which is sickening to see.
Kyle was just depressed and needed a little THC
the only thing that would help him with social anxiety
and now he's facing a charge for not taking the meds
marijuana manipulation of the municipals
and now little kyle won't be able to go to a good school
18 the record will be swiped clean
but the debt of the courtroom creeps into his credit.
Society's white lies will tell you you'll be fine
debt from the courtroom turn to slanging dope-
dealing with depression while dealing in possession
pulled over, twice moreover propaganda's progression.
They feed us the same lies we go out of our way to buy-
news channels, channeling bias views for more views
sitting idly by as our lives pass through
changing channels as we become the chattel
slaves to our own brain waves from the manipulation
we love to bow down to this free nation
led by puppets- controlled by intimidation tactics.
It's just backwards, the backbone of the nation doesn't have one
Columbine happened because little Kyle could get a gun, run-
repeat until it's done, dictating your discrimination
it's fun until everyone has to run away from the shooter.
Bangs heard throughout the world
talk of how his head was on backwards smoking on these backwoods
But he was off the marijuana and on the medicine-
FDA approved turned into a bullet to the head.
BANG.
Sinister structure of society-
**** america why did you have to lie to me.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
I'll stain my wrist cherry red,
I'll hang myself with angel hair [1]
I'll jump off a choco cliff
And smell bacon in the air.
Drown myself in sea of grease;
In lard or melted butter
Get lost in a Balck Forest,
Eat fondant rocks for dinner.
Stick Butterfinger down my throat
Until I can no longer breathe
Peel off my caramel skin
And run through a pile of wheat.
I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland
And then I will jump off the plane;
Railroad trip with Willie Wonka
Then get myself crushed by a train.
I'll put the gun on my temples,
Pull the trigger, out the whip cream
Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2]
Up in the skies you'll see our steam.
I'll grate my fingers just like cheese
And dice my arms like tomatoes;
Chop the onions, hold your tears
Mash my head like potatoes.
I'd stuff myself just like turkey
A big, fat one on Thanksgiving
I'd eat to death ruthlessly
So full that I'll be choking.
Fillet myself, eat my own meat
Or not, 'cause that would be so gross
I'll poison myself instead
A drop on my wine - let's toast!
I'd overdoze on sedatives
Each pill the size of Jellybeans
Or cross the road with closed eyes
Or live in a garbage bin.
Get under attacked by hornets
As I steal their precious honey
Huge marshmallows in my mouth
Die playing Chubby Bunny.
Ride a ship on a raging sea
Of milk or strawberry smoothie
And I'll let my boat be wrecked
Then feed a whale with cookie.
Get free popcorn with your ticket
As you watch me die, sit back
Don't stand 'til it is over,
Enjoy the show and relax.
This is what you always wanted -
See me lying on my coffin
I'll make you watch in total dread
As I **** myself with muffins.
And when I die, donut tell her -
My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth
She might slap you out of shock,
You might lose not just one tooth.
From the grave, I'll send you Kisses
My dear old Cad, bury me [3]
Give this body a Reese's [4]
From food that is it's enemy.
I have here a cake for you
Open your mouth, gently chew,
Close your eyes and hold your breath,
Savor now the taste of death.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
All intellect is dissected
Through the tunnel visioned perspectives
Stretched thin
In a stream of feed
Producing the illusion of need
Projected from old men
Who grin
Below the suicidal idols
Of the rivals
And glutton in the maniacal sins
Commenced
By brain dead Americans
Painted in the amens of the dense
Commending the hymns
Of spent casings
Atop the blood of babies
And maybe
One day
It can be better
Than the clever endeavours
To sever the head of the predators
Washing our hands of their sedatives
And delivering the skulls to the slavers
But we are pay dirt
Shoveled into trucks to work
For a leafless tree
Ready and wanting to believe
In anything
That doesn't see our deeds
As we
Are manufactured with the greed
Of sleeved wisemen
With five of a kind
In the fight for life
Putting our souls
Upon our rites
We bet
Despite the path of right
Infringing on the height
Of success
In excess
Of the tests message
We are the blessing
Of a warning
Within a forgotten story
Historically denoting its anointing
We are the disappointment
Of the warrior
Defeated in a court
Of corrupted consorts
Sorting out the blueprints
For a new fort
Distorting the borders
Of moral disorders
With orders to ****
The hoarders of will
We are the shrill screech
Of a dying world
And we are alive
But dead
Born to ****
Batteries of a shield
Building hell
To sell heaven pills
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 8:48 PM UTC
I'm still caught up
In the faucets
Ive been brought up
My losses thought up
In loss-less
Fossils
soldering
The slaughter
Atop
An my inner adulterer
In the fodder
Of a ****
I am the will
Of my weakest link
Give me a shrink
To **** away at the sheets
Of freedom
Drink away the stink
Of freedom
You cant free them
Cant believe them
Cant be them
Just retrieve them
From this life
Deceive them
To the knife
Bleed them
From the heights
Of ego
Let em flow
To never
In the blight
Of severed stems
With sedatives
And seduction
Isolate the malfunctions
Of my internal combustion's
Busting in
Annihilation
Of the problem
Manifestation
Of the solemn
In columns of regret
Inscribed across my chest
Blessed with contempt
For the clause
Unmindful of the laws
And stalled
I will stand
Where you fall
And call
To myself
From the stealth
Of broken homes
And hungry dogs
I am the fog
Of arson
The discontent
Of the larceny
Of the peasants
I'm blessed in the curses
Of burnt
Churches
But in worse ways
Im versed
In aversive
Silence
Dispersed
In cursive slices
I realise this
Is
The decisive
Moment
In which i wake
For the sake
Of procreation
Infection
Of a system
Convection
Of a prison
Citizen
Of a religion
Under taxation
To live in it
I'm illiterate to the
Commonalities
I cant depict
the squiggled lines
Its a tragic comedy
Giggling to the rhyme
I think it is
Perfection
At its peak
Pulp for the weak
Its neat!
I cant tell
If i am half awake
Or half asleep
But text is cheap
So i bleed
On screens
But dont mean
A thing
In dreamless
States
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
Merely a silhouette with its head cocked to the side, arms reaching out, stretching through the majesty in knives, and stabbing spots into my eyes.
I rise to burn
Feel to learn
For the better of my vendettas
Steady hands
On humbled umbrellas
Of sedatives
And other derivatives
Of my dissatisfaction
In lacking patience , I repaint the pavement, and face it after lacing spaceships with the enslavement of my basements, and place it in my heart.
Spiraling in slimy things
In lucid dreams
I'm asleep
Walking amongst the dead
My demon brings
The corpse of kings
In sheets
From battered beds
I am said
To have slithered
With the best of men
Drained and bested
In the molested
Ingesting of entire
Settlements
Not to mourn
As i warned
In subtle hints
Most would whimper
As i rinsed my hands
Of this
Varmint ****
And moved on with it
I get what i got coming
As im drumming
The anthem
And humming
With phantoms
Tandem
To alchemical
Dreams
Singing
In romantic strings
Scrutinizing
My advertising
Of fiends
Leaning in
To scream
I awake unclean
Seeing
Differently
Than before
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Agitation, despair and its winged variations, you name it
all repressed but still rise to test me
What is my recourse?
I tread lightly on this Escheresque concourse
It’s repeated often, I know
but the pen and keys are my most cathartic release
they’re magma to emerging flames
they’re sedatives for demons and angels alike
that reside on corners of this clavicle
How many steps could you take through my lens, my concave mirror?
Have you felt what I felt?
The brimming, cerebral cauldron bursting, putting volcanic geysers to shame
the questions outnumbering seconds spent since Earth’s nativity
the emotions ripping a rift through which rationality deep dives
it becomes Phelps in unknown depths
your body becomes both a Vatican and a Colosseum,
place of worship and place of war
and you walk the tightropes your vocal chords have morphed into
careful to seem like another replica, don’t wanna upset the blades they all balance on
don’t wanna scare the rest hollow, no,
best to follow and best to follow the regimen:
coffee beans and spice of delusion in the hazelnut syrup,
sip slow
follow the same cycle because change is a cocoon and cocoons ache like the past
keep on pretending to love the workplace
love the norms held over you
puppet strings bring warmth after all
in this solitary world cold as winter missile silos
and just as destructive
So I ask again, have you felt what I felt?
Do the few days in utopia offset the majority on rodent wheels?
Have you risen so high, to satellite peaks, to the best you’ve ever been
only to have the worst waiting on the coin’s parallel?
We flip like saltwater fins and backstroke till a back is left broke
I’m learning to discard hope but breathe in the alternative
I believe in better days, I will carve them from local stone
and build a home upon their surfaces
I now know paradise is a set of blueprints
happiness is no state of mind, it’s a direction to me
you may not notice when you arrive
but you keep going
and that’s the beauty of it
you let it be the wind
It’ll find you on your journey
Tell me again,
have you felt what I felt?
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
Where i am
Somewhere on solid lithosphere
everybody seems mad,
viewing the world from an empty plate
yesterday and today can never be the same
about ninety percent of the world is confused,
the more you know the less you understand
you have no clue
pray for the mind's eyes
beauty in perspectives
Semi-rainbow Sedatives
Naked band of thieves
Slender neem twigs
when you see the light
live with it
Wherever you are
don't feel mad
BY IWO O. EDWIN
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC