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f Jun 2019
i went to see a psychiatrist last monday in the “avenues” and it was refreshing in a way because she actually listened to me, without making me nervous, which is hard. she asked me simple questions, i told her of the ****** abuse as a child, and the toxicity of my relationship before. she asked how my quality of sleep is, and i said it’s fine but i wake up crying or once i screamed “****** ******”, and i also punched the fan blowing on my face in my sleep because i thought i was being attacked. i have panic attacks after grocery shopping and a phobia of crowds, although i’m really unsafe anywhere, anything could happen is how i feel. (my whole life has felt like i’m on the edge of a cliff) i pick at my face, and sometimes pluck out my hair. embarrassing. but better than when i was a young girl and ******.. on my.. ****** hair... ugh. wow.
anyway she said it sounds like i’m having ptsd symptoms, and that my behavior is very common in people with childhood trauma. she adjusted my meds, now i’m on the highest dose prozac, doxycycline for my face, flexeril, klonopin nightly, and trazadone. oh and birth control. anyway i called out to work one day because the night previous i had had two panic attacks, in my sleep as well. long story short my coworker (i think she’s my friend but i really don’t know to tell you the truth) asked how i was, and i told her everything i just said. she replied with “ptsd from what?”
and my thing is i’ve told her of *** abuse when I was a child, and i’ve told her about my toxic abusive relationship. so i replied with photos i’ve taken over the years of my self harm and explained again the abuse and she never replied. i see her at work and she acts chipper as always and just exactly like my friend/coworker. but the only thing she said to me about the pictures i sent her “are you feeling any better?” as she was getting in her car.
that stung a little bit.
anyway i truly am a crybaby. no sense of direction because i have no sense of urgency. “nothing really matters, anyone can see”
and yet there are days when the sun shines even though it hurts my eyes, and it’s beautiful, the flowers in our front yard are beautiful. i’m grateful for life. maybe the meds are working again, hm?
6 - 24 - 19
krm Aug 2017
Cicadas hum quietly,
amongst the summer choir.
Locked doors,
birds on their wire's.
Keep from harm's way,
but thorted by desire-
Blinds colored gray
block out humanity.

These dreams speak to me through insanity,
a tv plays white noise,
my mind is in calamity.
As nightmares creep in through my eyelids,
amid the darkness of this quiet house.

This is my Strauss-
wooden floors entirely silent,
the thoughts inside are violent.
Recalling Baptist Hospital.
No cart rhythmically on call,
a nurse alloting me two pearls to swallow.

Making the sea of seretonin flow,
making happiness through my body grow.
Tonight,
I take my trazadone
no longer resembling a pearl,
my toes curl.
At the bitter taste,
following the nightmares that make haste
to follow me to bed,
praying I don't wake up dead.
Sleep oh Sleep
Take me away
Trazadone dreams
littered in dismay
I'm frightened
I'm trying to run away
My feet won't move
please oh please
Take me away
Vicious thoughts dance about
I scream, I shout
trapped
I'll never get out

© 2012 Christina Jackson
Markie Waters Nov 2020
Multiple months now, two to three hours.
Wake up, pat the pillow
Comb the sheets, be mellow.
Trazadone, from which I draw powers
To rest in dreamy fantasy.
Quite fitting, back to a girl I once fancied.
Eager to be present, in dream, 100 percent content.
No focus of the world, ease in a peaceful place,
As we yearned to be face-to-face…then blink
****** my eyes that open a wink.
Take me back, let it recur
To blissful memories with her.
Ode to joy, feelings to encase.
For memories will soon efface.
No remorse nor push away these means
But sum it as an Exquisite Dream
Boaz Priestly Jun 2017
I’ve been in two
different wards
I slip casually into conversations
like this is an
every day thing
like it’s not life
ending
starting
shattering
stopping
beginning
again and again

I pretend that I
didn’t die the night
I took 40 Trazadone
and fell heavily asleep with
my heart in my throat

But my last thought
was how dare I take my life
when she barely got to
live through hers
and I’m glad that I
woke up

Still I’m sorry that
she didn’t and I’m
still afraid of large bodies
of water and hell
I don’t like being older than her

I’m glad that I woke up
but sorry that she didn’t
More old poetry for a dead friend that I never thought I'd be older than.
Caela Bay Sep 2023
Maybe it’s all the pills they keep pilling on
                        One more and I’ll feel better…

Maybe its the family genetics finally kicking in that I always thought I out ran…

Maybe it’s my twenties
         Everyone keeps telling me this is how it should feel…
                               Or
Maybe it’s the fact that no amount of trazadone can get me too sleep
No dose of Adderall will keep me awake
Not a gram of Lexapro can make me feel
Happy
And I just keep trying my ******* best but everyday life finds a new way to kick me in teeth.

Maybe it’s my grandma dying,
     Or that I don’t talk to my brother anymore…

Maybe it’s the fact that I sit in this chair once a week saying all these things to a person who is only paid to care and I still tell them everything anyway because if I don’t say it out loud to another person and just keep replying it in my head over and over one day I’ll start to scream and never stop.

         I feel like a ghost in a grocery store
Starring at the shelves of food wondering why I’m even here.
once an old man over the phone at my job told me,
“Caela, you’re a good cat” And sometimes that’s the one statement I feel like I can live for.
Qualyxian Quest May 2021
She said vulnerable and unexpected
Now two of my favorite words

12:37: it feels directed
I wonder if she heard?

Can't sleep again, maybe Trazadone
Not much to do tomorrow

Living so often pain
Disappointment and soul sorrow

                  Synchronicities?

— The End —