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Vanessa Nov 2014
I've been living in my bed
Staring at the ceiling
Waiting for the bed room door to open
It's cold under these blankets
When are you coming home?
I lost my head somewhere along the way
Some place between "forever" and "goodbye"
This morning I heard you whisper "I love you"
So my stomach turned over
And I stopped breathing before I closed my eyes
So they could meet yours
Soft and sweet
The warmest hazel I ever bathed in
The xanex carried me to you
I told you we'd meet in our dreams
That's where I'm home
Alaina Moore Mar 2013
Some chemical influences are necessary.
Experimentation is mandatory.

Skim the syllabus and you will see,
MDMA is chapter three.
Hemp is the strongest ****,
At least that's what I learned in Botany.

Biology came as quite a shock,
When the plants pulled out their *****.
English came as such a breeze,
The Diazepam brought poetry bees.

They pollinated the dopamine receptor,
Which greatly impressed my psychology professor.  
When the zombies rose for dead weeks droll,
Adderall and Vyvanse kept us cool.

There's always a place in the Union Bathroom stall
To do a dome some Coke before study hall.
Of all the girls in my dorm floor
Roxy and Molly were just next door.

Art history wasn't the most entertaining,
Until Absinth was my painting water.
Finals were such a stress, so I'll admit
We laced our gin shots with Xanex.  

College was an experience, I'll admit,
But Chemistry got me on the DEAn'S list.
This is more of an articulation of college stereotypes and actualities and in no way reflex my own personal experiences.
Joseph Perales Apr 2011
She snorts her Ritalin
she snorts her xanex
she snorts her *******
before she has ***

She loves her codeine
and her amphetamines
her world spins so fast
she needs some Dramamine

she buys and sells pills,
writes prescriptions
she skips most meals
to feed her addictions

light up a cigarette
gulp down a percocet
mix uppers and downers
hoping that they offset

she takes bottle after bottle
of pills and alcohol
she just tips it back
and swallows it all

a walking pharmacy
a waiting tragedy
a princess of pills
her Medicated Majesty
Christian Hart Mar 2012
There is ****** boy,
his bright blue eyes and big "axe"
Take some xanex bro.
Daniel Magner Aug 2013
IV
Isla Vista
twisted you
like a warped Twizzler.
You miss her,
but the Xanex and K-pins,
the fifth of gin
that brought you to your knees,
spinning in the throws
of ODing,
kills everyone,
not just yourself.
Maybe your first breath
after being an inch from death
tasted brand new,
I can only hope
that support from us all
will keep another bottle of pills
from disappearing
down
your
throat
.
Daniel Magner 2013
If only these words were enough...
Jami Belle Dec 2013
Can you imagine a silent savior? I have one.
All my thoughts stretch to it and
There I find comfort, there I find reflections of my dreams, I invest myself.
Here I find a cure for all the ailments of my life, all the hypothetical problems and abstract thoughts, providing me with feelings
Every pill and drug claims to provide us with, but no prozac, no
Xanex, no opiates or hallucinogens will ever allow me to connect with the world like this.
I found
Significance.
An acrostic poem.
Melideth May 2011
i'm guilty.
i have the world expecting so much of me
but all i want to do is run.
i'd never claim status as a full blown addict,
but i have an overwhelming urge to go numb.

i know, it's dumb.
silly me, i lost a brother not a son
so it shouldn't be as hard for me.
at least that's what is implied,
what the world makes it seem.
I am supposed to endure my pain
while being strong for dad and mommy.

**** it, fine. I'll be strong this time.
So when you're all feeling fantastic
I'll just destress alone in the backseat
of a car filling discreetly
with carbon monoxide, i'll goto sleep
as it creeps into my lungs slowly.

maybe I'll run off to the carolina's,
with a recently seperated married man.
commit myself to a tragic relationship.
See what ******* drama comes out of it.

Or I could participate in the norm and
go use my insurence cards.
meet a good doctor to
Explain my anxiety's and get a script written up,
.50 Xanex and self adjust my dosages.
float myself into bliss.
It'd be just like old times...
Slow me down enough to see the beauty in it all,
until i run out and have to come back up.
JoJo Nguyen Feb 2013
Das Fuehrer gefüllt mit Flöte.

Listening 2 yawns,
meditating on medication,
lisping a cry to Das Führer,
I proffer a pray,
im morgen Früh, im morgen Führer,
im morgen nah; hören Sie mich.
Not 4 pleasure yearning 4 unright
Unctuous crimes. Not with U.
Not with boast (yet not with hate 2).
Hating the bath water with the babe
as it bashes Reaper's polemic
hellfire falling out of window;
Still me, in that kindness enters
my home, bowing cuz the doorway is 2 large.
Guiding in black ink,
writing a way
out of loyalties mouth,
out of sclerotic liver,
and contumacious throat.
I tongue an act, a play,
staying guilty in U,
saying guilty in Us.
Lemmings encouraged to revolt,
Offending in U,
Rejoicing only in Us.
Witness our joy, that Xanex protects
against dull moments, forgetting Us,
bland blessings rightly
Surrounded by Yawn's shield.
marïama May 2015
Imagine falling out of a window or getting in a car crash, break some bones, get a few stitches, scrape some skin
You'll get a cast, few bandages and anesthetic
Now Imagine cancer, a tumorous mass maybe somewhere in your brain or lungs.. not even noticeable to you let alone those around you then some day there's a huge 8 pound mass right in your cerebellum...
Fact of the matter is your body has produced this and it is actually trying too **** you
That is what depression is like
Depression isn't a sudden disaster
You go through your whole life thinking your okay maybe this feeling is just apart of getting  older till one day you wake up and you wish you hadn't.
All you've got is the Oxytocin blues and an appetite for Ritalin
****** to be able to face people and Prozac to make it through the day.
Now can you imagine finding a cure too all the ailments of life, all the hypothetical and real problems.. something even Xanex, opiates or hallucinogens will never allow you really feel.
The essence of another dancing throughout your mind, seeing significance in life even if not yours but that of another.
when you find someone who makes you understand the definition of these words, when you find the one person you can't get out of your mind after taking pill after pill desperately trying to forget them, when you look at someone and can't see a flaw, when your with someone that makes you feel so much all at once that you have to stop and try to remember the last time you've actually been that happy or laughed that hard and can't think of another single moment like the one your in..
You've found your cure.
Some of us don't
reflectionzero Sep 2014
I talked to a friend today for the first time since I've been back from Arizona. It was interesting. I tried to start off cool, calm, collected... all of those things you should be in public and with strangers-- but only in private among friends. Eventually he started asking the hard questions, as I knew he would. It's a simple formality that defuses so much stress for me. Listening to someone's problems is like making eye-contact with a homeless person. You still want to treat them like a human being, but you'll end up regretting it later.  



So he asked me how the relationship stands with my dad since summer. “Has it improved? Did you two talk?” “No, no.” I say. No, it hasn't improved at all. My father still feeds of his perpetual guilt as a muse and mentor in every sale he makes and AA meeting he attends. If you cut him open you'd find an empty bottle of Jameson. “That's alright,” I tell him. I don't chase him down anymore to have a heart to heart about the past, or his feelings, or his mistakes-- no, we're adults now. We use each other as a means to an end. This is the way males bond. Instead of getting angry at him when he's a ****, I just ignore his phone calls for five days until he's saturated in his guilt long enough to actually be proactive. When I call him back It's expected he'll send me money, even if it's unwarranted. It's so easy. I don't have to fight with him, and he gets to avoid looking at the loser in the mirror. Nobodies emotional needs are being met-- but, hey! At least we can spend the 100$ drinking long island ice tea at the layovers on the way back to my life away from hell. Thanks dad, really.  



“And how is your sister?” he asks. “Oh, she's loosing her mind,” I say. She asks me why I don't try harder for the family. She blames me for leaving and emotionally severing myself. “It's like you don't give a **** about anything but yourself,” she says. Well she really hit the nail on the head. I, apparently, am the patron saint of reassembling ravaged family units beyond repair and squaring the circle. I am fully aware of how angry she is that she can't do the same emotional distancing for herself. She wants so badly to grow out of that child that's still locked inside of herself begging for a functioning home. So there she is, Atlas, holding the weight of the world and I'm the one that put it on her shoulders. No one can advise her because we're all to blame, are her victimhood is a virulent strain infecting everyone but me.  



“And hows your mom?” he asks. “Oh, well she's just a silly goose, you know?” “Sillier than ever,” I say. Making her rounds to the ER quicker than she rebounded from deciding to leave her boyfriend and live off my sister in Seattle. “At least this time it's from the aftershocks of her attempted suicide and not the actual act of doing it, you know?” But there still runs the potentiality of getting that phone call-- “Hey, your mom's got a tube running into her heart.” It's a fun game of Russian Roulette we like to play in our family-- nobodies winning.  But she made the time to come to Flagstaff and spend some quality time with me for my birthday. Forked over a little bit of Xanex for me and my girlfriend, bought us *****, drank with us. “You know, what are moms for?” I say.  



I tell him, "My life is like a Modern Family episode directed by Quentin Tarantino."



It just makes a person a little rough around the edges, you know? And with insight comes a bit of cynicism. Like, yeah. I dissected and tore you apart yesterday-- but it's only because I love you. Your imperfections really make you shine. It's that feeling you get when you try to jam the wrong shape through one of those Fisher-Price toys-- it doesn't fit but you force it anyway.



But you're alright, you'll muddle through.
little Bird Jan 2015
Chicago is the one night stand that never should have lasted four years
I thought I was facing all my fears
It was a love I saw on screen,
that was never meant for me.
It was abuse I denied
and all your bow tied lies
my ribs are bruised
still I've gotten used
to you freckled with late nights
and neon lights
I said I was leaving you
and stayed another two
years,
I don't want to hate it here
Chicago, my first love who swallowed me whole
strangers follow me home
Chicago felt my beating heart
clenched and ripped it apart
I can't forget your taste on my lips
or the delicate trickle of the wine we sipped
You keep saying you love me
how this is exactly how it's supposed to be
Isn't it wonderful! you say
you don't even notice as I look the other way
I started smoking cigarettes so I won't be hungry
Xanex for my anxiety
you keep leaving your issues at my bedroom door
I told you I can't do this anymore
I laid lonely on your cold sheets every night
trying to believe this was right
tell myself this is the only way it could have been
but I still see the blue of your fingerprints on my skin
stop pulling my hair
you know my secrets so raw and so bare
a sunset romance I thought we shared
you've only left me broken and scared
It was just a one night stand that lasted too long
Now I know I don't belong.
I'll walk away with no regret
I won't look back and I won't forget.
I remember way way back
With the waves under your regret
You thought u could bring it back
And now u never look at me like that
Now it’s all just switched
Overtime
step by step
now you know im dead
Alaina Moore Sep 2018
I wish that for just one
******* second,
I could turn your mood around
like a Xanex bar can.
I wish that thoughts of me
flooded your mind to the point
where the day is ruined without me,
like you do with your zombie bricks.  
I am so tired of being second best
to a chemical mistress.
Butch Decatoria Sep 2016
"THINGS I dream Of"* - A poem by his wooly
mammoth mr. WOODY.


[Not much is left to the imagination
     to leave the Plantation in the sultry sun...]

"So what does Woody dream?" Of
Most things, Good...
To have lived that we should have not
known the sweet --Heavens
                                  now forbidden fruit

The knot you swallowed
Adams apples
lodges / in your throat
                "seeds
of trees lush -- green with Ideas"
who so to speak is
         a Head of a Family tree
         summer breezey tree-tops
bright songs light bittle birds
California girls and wild
the boardwalk, the "coast's
voluptuosity" travel the herd...
      
"sheezus!
if this is hell....****...boing!"

"I thawt I taw a *****
cat"
bettys kitty ******* bunny
Aye*
Mammy, Selfies will last longer
than the ****** you accidentally
bumped into

"Because poppy wanted something new"
HEAD is where you dump
**** and **** n ****.

Lavatory of Mad Bladders
     Tags sharpies spray-paint walls say
the craziest - don't ever dial the number
that escorts the bad drawn dongs
and ***'ges . scribbled in eye lashes
looking sideways toward you
for a kiss...?

He thought he knew,
I'm secure with my manly mystique
not damaged having none of him around
I sleep easy
                without
a father-dad-uncle-brother stress
pressure to proove myself
with stacks or whips...

so yeah, you know who's what's up

great Gran D is maw-maw's boy
gone off-grid they visit Vegas
Ranches  and ride the stallions
Gran-D gramps : the bunnies...
     (They sleep in quite well
      those heat waves summer fun...
catching rays and Zs.)

Herbalist
Maybe Woody dreams
are all Natural      
                          * (to question existence
                            and wanting more)

of Seed... of Sea? --of Trees I mean
meditate a sedative
bow down to Xanex!* rroooaaarr!
And in Any hood, it is your Word kept
Honors Mens Respects

Standing Tall like "Things" of Woody Dreams

Prisms
And Sleep's winter warmths
Hot Chocolates Marsh mellow Pillows
              [Well Rested]
Is the dream of this heart
the Poet sank
my Battleship--Me.

*"I will always care for Thee,
  but I can only carry Me."

If in Sleep...?
                       Sweet       Peacefully.
Simon Woodstock Sep 2015
post a picture of a cop and they say **** em hoes see a man with alot of guap and they gon **** him post pictures of your ***** for a 100 likes ******* and ***** is a rich mans night kids all go to bed wake up with cold sweats moms strung out on the pain pills again will it ever end god will you send someone to fight off all of this dark energy lately only finding release in xanex and Hennessy satan i need a minute scratch that make it 3 when you think you got it hard look at you neighbor but lately I only talk to myself and I broke all my mirrors gun to my head time for bed or more meds walls of my home filled with my prescription it's a hollow tip clip that gets constant refilling end it all or buy a gold chain and sell my self for 15 minutes of fame but **** the fame because i'd rather uphold my integrity instead of selling my soul to be a celebrity so excuse me while I waste away smoking this ****
Dillion Beams Jan 2014
i dont know.
the same three times every night
my eye's open, i reach for her
but she isn't there.
i tremble without her
i need you like an addict needs there xanex.
i need you to live.
with a heavy heart, my beautiful girl.
you are my favorite my favorite drug, lcp.
rachel Jun 2014
Sleeping is dangerous: You will dream of sunshine and happiness, but wake up to a dark cold room where you are reminded of why you went to sleep in the first place. It may seem like a safe-haven at first but eventually it becomes your only way of coping.
Words can be deceiving: You'll learn to stop trusting what people say, mainly because your mom lied to you 27 times about her drinking. You were only 6 when you learned that people lie.
Scars are not beautiful: Occasionally you'll pick up a razor and slide it across your skin, thinking, "this will make me a warrior." You'll watch as blood blossoms and blooms out of your skin. After a year or two you'll discover that you made a mistake and your legs will never be the same.
Medicine isn't magic: After two years of counseling your doctor might suggest to you xanex, and you'll think, "wow these really work." Maybe they'll continue to amaze you for a year, but eventually it'll wear off and you'll come to the conclusion that your "magic meds" were merely masking emotions that you can't get rid of.
People aren't always nice: Once you enter school and find your place, it'll become clear that everyone is hateful in some aspect of life. Kids will be mean and say awful things to you, things that make you realize at 11 years old that you are not "normal."
Crying is okay: Some days, maybe even everyday, you will break down and cry. It might be a few tears, or an entire waterfall. There is nothing wrong with that.

After four years of being diagnosed with depression I've learned that coping isn't easy, and that recovery takes more effort than just thinking, "well, I am trying."
b e mccomb Aug 2016
when i came into
work this morning

you were upset
on the edge
just waiting for a call
from your brother

last night your niece
tried to commit suicide

(she wouldn't have
made it if her twin hadn't
had an odd feeling and
called her)


my stomach dropped
i don't know this girl

(they found her passed
out with empty bottles
of xanax and
cough syrup)


you told the story
over the course of
the day unfolding family
details like clean laundry

(critical condition
and now her dad has to
go to the police because
she doesn't take xanex)


"why would
she do that?
she only totaled
her car it wasn't
that bad why
would she do this?"

i didn't say
anything
thinking maybe
it was just the
thing that pushed
her over the edge

and the day wore on
you weren't quite
there mentally
i could tell

but on the other
hand i wasn't really
either too busy wishing
i was your niece.
Copyright 8/10/16 by B. E. McComb
Brielle O'Brien Feb 2014
When I hear his name
I try to hide the excrutiating pain
Deep within me
That's bound to spill out in a way
creating an eruption of
unexplainable and uncontrollable emotions
I try to cover up the way I feel inside
Just like the way I cover up the way I look
On the outside
All I know is nothing really works
Whether it be xanex
Or a tube of concealor
Nothing stays hidden forever
a Catholic priest told me to write
he said it was all in my head.
so I was given half a Xanex
and I drifted off in bed.
religion tells me I’m being haunted,
science swears it’s brain chemistry,
so I take my pills with holy water
to combat both, differently.
this is madness
THIS- is sadness
dreading the daybreak
dreading in the night when I wake.
a Catholic priest asked if I loved myself
with watery eyes I said no.
and I’m told to forget my past
but it’s hard when you know what I know.
my mind hurts constantly
it never has been quiet.
I’m told it will get better
but I’m not sure I buy it...
because it’s hard to tell
when you’re going through Hell
that Heaven persists
on the horizon where it exists.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
{it does take a half hour to read, I timed it.}

Pythagorian permission, Poet, today viz.
five years ago, auto-did-actical,
the output arrogance,
self categorization
accept the role, be a finger, or a toe,
be a knee or an elbow, chose a position,
take it
make it your part in reality function
as if it all just happens
on
accident,
you just happened along…
as though saying show, and showing so,
is the same as saying so, and saying see…
demon-stratem ****
miracles of crowd perception, everybody
look this way, look away, look away
Dix-ai 'da swanee, I tell you, I saw…
Land o'Goshen, locust free. I swanee…

Did you ever, even once, work dawn to dusk,
to pick the cotton before the rain?
You'd need to be born before 1954, I'd reckon;
to have ever pulled a cotton sack
any where in North America.
You can hand-pick about 20 plants in 10 minutes while it takes a cotton picker about 30 seconds to pick up to 1,200 plants. Ai knows.

-- good morning, mustabin--
Probable propitious auspices
- evening the occasional heaps
- sun's light blending peachy huey

Phrygian gardens had song birds, I bet.
Bluebirds, in season, certainly good,
expecting miracles, as farmers
expect rains and harvests and
no blights or bugs or birds or fires
or frosts too soon in the sugaring cycle.
For citrus, not maples, frost some years
meant no Christmas, if you know the sense.
--- we had beggars come to our door
on Christmas Day,
their car broke down, and something
told them, the people inside my house
would help… we were three doors down
from a Jehovah's witness church,
but we had so much, and those kids,
and their mom,
coulda been my mom, had things
gone another way, in the soul selling.

To observe the future from 1950,
are we not
made winners if by now we are not in prison?

Rabble, eh, my equal rank, common-sensewise,
I was once a dear friend of an angel, as real
as any ever to bring another bit of good news.

My messenger told me to say plainly what I see.
Habakkuk Habits invoked a disglosalialacical spell
Aha. If luck were not a factor at the edged abyss,
hiss steamsudden
Coolant ego '
idden agendas, owning the energy,
euphemism
for owning the earth's produce.

Imagining a representation of truth,
as a mortal, a spirit embodied, held out
for grasping fingers
to find handles,
or spikey burrs for tangled locks…
-----------
Examined my selves
for an empathetic one,
I heard Absalom swinging in the tree…
I found no functioning, pathos perceived
is as near as one could come, feeling pain,

awareness, pain at being made to pay attention
to the replaying trainwrecks from fifty years ago.
No.
No, three thousand years ago, really, that long ago
and no updates on Wisdom receptivity?

Life in logos, mere words living in lettered lines
and rows, columns and pages and sections and such.
There are no sacred secret rites.
The snake can take your life, or tickle your soul.

Logical steps lead from one word to the next,
with 151 pre-positioning aiming words,
words that take and hold objects,
to and fro upon a time.

Distance diminishing day dopplering toward us,
the experience bound by galaxy level gravity,

massive messaging apparatus
Nachrichtenübermittlungsgerät zending oud a tingtingting
strumming all the oud's strings in theory.
Would you prefer to have a day in touch
or to have a day out of touch, floating, drifting through
the halls of power, inner sanctum, towers atop slagheaps
of holyshitchewdonotwannaknow, but do, do undoubtedly
know.

Original disconnect. Aware become, conscience ****** eve,
goodness found hell inventing just knowing love most needed
opens possibility quickly ready searched truth uni versal xanex zone. Calming. Sigh, and listen,
where I live there are
still war planes passing over my head, practicing.

Just in case, Semper fi. Charge the fuel.

Pilot training in the real Chocolate Mountains,
so backwash sunset red this time of day…

A brain, already capable of completing
ambitious intelligent coded construction processes

to go, to yield, to go about getting around orders
intuited easily entreated,
with little need
for the power
to punish the cowardly shirker of war duty…

to empty space, tzimtzim on a human scale,
as when the messaging systems deployed metaphors.
Empty vessles, not a few.
Mental focus hearth felt hooks, catch your attention

Red herring and black swans and autistic savants, all
attract attention and something
more rare, a daring
to know why luck seems such a powerful factor.
Curiosity before knowledge they say.
Whatsoever we agree. Eh?
Religions of billions, or two, just me and you, we
believe for a second that eternity is ever right after
ever before, and we exist in the interim, and not before.

Ever, in the scriptural universal sense…
make up your mindshare…
ok.
Mindtimespace, point grid riddled
with holes.
Perspectives on history,
recent history, edging bets
most losers never knew they made,

when a choice is made,
according to the ruling stories,
despite the constant compute refuting,
sneaking
suspicion
sin, lying at the door, did you notice?

If money can fix it, then it is not a problem.
So said the grandson of the Mormon Pioneer
who laid legal real estate claim to raw Sedona.

The grandson of the mechanic, allowed, that so.
- stopped and thought, actuating a still mind,
- pondering, breathing soft, slow, gentle, easy
entreating a change to
to whom, eh, from the page, flat, word after word,
each defined between us, meaning, golden mean
curve to judge beauty by purpose design.

You have seen the curve, you know
what I mean is much along those lines.

Chances are good, we say without thinking,
feeling kinda lucky, a post anxiety high, per haps;
any
way. One day, to a mortal is a measurable span,
and in America, wasting mortal lives
with republic guardians
of the laws enforcing peace
within Belair and Hillcrest regions of Athens…
{L.A. as portrayed the city of messaging mediums}
and the near suburbs, for the managers of the help.
-Leaping millennia in a single second thought
it is Autumn, 2023…

At the scattered outermost edges of urban sprawl,
there remains a kind of creative ifity, an absense
of civil strife, a kind of pollen in the wind, as change,
on cosmic seasonal suggestion that we think long
co-gnosis, sensing augmentalated wedoms, stretching
fi, the idea,
the fi in fiduciary and Semper Fi, and confidence.
Tuning to middle c, wait and see, foe from Phrygia
drummed response, thump thump thrum.

Shofar sounding afar off, listen, listen, hear
the babies, always, babies, after bombs, in the tents
the babies always activate auto **** alert, and feel
terror, the actual mind state occupied by the prisoners
in poverty, every where.

Entertain my brain. Hold my attention to gain,
acquiescence, necience, recognizing your best self,
there's the old tongue in cheek joke, male bond humor.
Same crude pleasure pursuant patriarchal hierarchy.

By royal order, presidential decree and papal bull,

the powers opposing the light of holy truth, persist.
All subjects under the common global order, obey or
else, we disagree with basic gravity and Pareto distributions.

Where the feebleness of mind is first discerned,
was once the local village or shire, cluster of cousins
and immigrant help's children who - how you say, see
themselves being a baker, when they play patty cake, see
or being a maker of clay vessles for holding many things,

see, we make up our own minds, then ideas take over.

Entertain me, show me people involved in drama, over
nothing. ***, drugs, rockandroll, when did the music die?

We could calm the world, with a Coke®
it's the re-al thing, al-ways a ways away re
ality with you and me on the run down to Rosarita
inland route from Jacumba, around the fence,

Singing at the top of our lungs, IT’S THE REEE AL THING
baby.
Look away from the skinny moon.
These bodies preserve life on earth,
and signal nonsense when aiming at stars, however
considering the heavens, far from the glare of cities,

even then, naked eye, I was told, however
I fact checked with my Ai assisting intelligence,
Egypt had not known the Dog star binary.
So this is true:
ChatGPT
The ancient Egyptians believed that the star Sirius,
also known as Sothis, was associated
with the goddess Isis and had significant importance
in their religious beliefs and calendar system.
They believed that the rising of Sirius
in the pre-dawn sky,
which occurred annually around July,
marked the beginning of the Nile flood
and the start of the agricultural year.
The Egyptians did not believe that Sirius was a three-star system.
- last line is all I asked, all the rest, ah, doubblingentendrills,
- all the rest of time we have to spend enjoying hell,
- from some perspectives, this is currently hell, no other.

Thieves of detail truth precepts, lurk,
at this line the author activated prayer circuits,
to take angst
and spin it into genuine umph up
from the base mind level,
low as a mind of any kind can go,
to the core of all emotion.

Dead center initial gravity. First sequence ex nihilo, what
do you know?.. o o psci daisy, just dropped the baby,
baby
can't you hear me crying, baby-love. Blurplepeopleeater,
lyin' all the time, you ain't never caught a rabbit,
and you ain't no friend of mine…

Take us to the danger zone, flyin' all the time,
ease our feeble minds and give us good service

Action movies, make us squirm, who has time for this,
we mostly all do, it seems,
seems, seems unreal really unreal, dream-like,
entrancement, fashion alert, attuned to degrees of in,
and out, up and down, round this way, square this way,
amphoras fit snug, round jugs
in square grids, leaning
into the curve
of greater vessles, trading knowledge
for knowledge,
with a few side realities, professional
courtesies, judgement calls, authorized executive acts,

I declare… I'drather doubt I know what you know,
than doubt that you do not doubt that you know.

Voltaire… defend to the death your right to say you know.
Faith is your evidence, we all suppose, spiritual warfare
is proven by the lie that says Satan is the deceiver.

Wait. What did I say, have I come this far and none
know… wait, those poor souls cold calling on solar leads,
gees, I'm sorry you are so used, really, I feel for you, your
job *****, as they say.
In realized life as a grown up in the system;
got a job, cutcherhair, dopplering by as I manifest, as real
one of the hitchhiking pests, depicted as vermin
on a poster displayed at the Greyhound station,
nearest to Route 66 in San Bernardino, March, '70.

Anchor links, ancient landmarks, moments when pivots
occur, and as often as not, acute reversals widen with use,
dull witted boys with instant anger output honed to fine edge,
grow dull in three seasons, few hold the line on the fourth fight.

Here, in cyberspace, the information super highway,
and the solid state circuitry to deal with mean free ways,
in quarkish inverse infinity space, deep from any now,
in time thought since once,
you did it,
you passed understanding. Got an A.
Some things have no pause button.
Frances Taylor Dec 2018
Poetry is my sertraline  
To write is to create
a simple pen and paper
is my armour against hate

Music is my xanex
it’s this that ignites a spark
the inspiration that it gives me
is my sword against the dark

Nature is my therapy
the feel of wind and rain
and sounds of birds and bees
equip me for battles in my brain

Love is the most powerful
- Depression’s sworn enemy
more so than any prescription
and there’s plenty inside of me
Simon Woodstock Apr 2018
Father
I have a confession
I haven't prayed since the passing of my great grandmother
Instead I fell down a rabbit hole of self pity
I cling to my vices like you do to your bible
I sell pieces of myself to strangers for a night
only for momentary pleasures that will only leave me the emptier inside
I smoke **** as excuse so that I never have to fully feel emotions
I abuse it like a xanex prescription
forever bottling it up inside
only to unravel from the seams when I blackout
Forgive me father
even though I know it's too late
no turning back now I know hell is my fate
Bee Jan 2019
Trapped in a windowless cage,
No bars or doors,
A personal form of torture,
Inside my head,
Need an escape,
But no where to go,
A burn on my leg,
A scream in my throat,
Release my demons,
With a sickening thud,
My chest gets tighter,
Eyes roll into my head,
"Pop some xanex and smile",
The Dr said,
But no one knows,
About this windowless cage,
Inside of me.
-Bee-

— The End —