"zoloft" poems
Orange capsules of condensed vitamin C
Tumble out onto my cracked,
Outstretched palm,
As I arch my spine towards the bathroom sink,
Scooping lukewarm water from the faucet
Into my half closed mouth-
The tiny pills clog my upturned throat:
Just two of the numerous solutions
To a world too numb
To contest.
I've never felt more alive,
Than when I'm drowning my body
With handfuls of tap water
And magic remedies bottled up and
Marketed to a world
Afraid of growing old.
Lining the wall of local drug stores,
One isle over from office supplies
And scented laundry detergent.
Multicolored, multipurpose-
Labels proclaim the fountain of youth
To anyone alive enough to fear it.
There's never enough of reality
To reach our depleted veins
Through the ever present forms
Of the world. Enough isn't
Enough, until we've convoluted it into a tiny
Plastic oval, and forced it down the throats
Of those well enough to swallow it.
Pharmaceutical companies proclaim their
Daily gospel in the linoleum streets
Of hospital waiting rooms
And local grocery stores,
As I cross my heart and count the
Hours until my next prescribed dose
Of complacency. Who knew happiness
Could have the bitter after taste of
Vitamin B or
The credibility of Zoloft.
The sandman has been replaced by Benadryl,
While creativity lies stagnant
Beneath adderall's indifferent thumb.
Obsession is a 26 letter alphabet,
Strung together by a bunch of deficiencies,
Incoherently droning on
To the burden of Man,
And flickering neon light
Of a drive-thru pharmacy.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
Hydrocodone®
Lipitor®
Zithromax®
Zocor®
Zoloft®
Prozac®
Ambien®
Fosamax®
Coumadin®
Klonopin®
Neurontin®
Naproxen®
Simvastatin
Albuterol
Glucophage
Metoprolol
I am hurting
on my knees
Can't afford
any of these!
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
Zoloft,
This is a love letter.
Please do not get this confused.
You & my serotonin became infused.
I love you,
But I love you not.
It's almost like my old self,
That I forgot.
You take away the pain.
Only some of it,
The rest remains.
But I love you more than you know,
You've helped me in ways that don't show.
You are the drug that I've been chasing
Coke,
Acid,
Alcohol,
Need some replacin'..
But-
I hate your manipulation,
The way you think I need you,
Everyday,
No hesitation.
You starve me.
You beat me.
Make me physically weak..
But instead of leaving you,
I take you everyday,
Every week.
Because of you,
I've stopped & smelled the roses,
Had my first smile in awhile,
Took some pictures,
Held some poses.
But yet,
I know this can't go on forever.
I'm not sure when our last kiss will be,
Sometimes I only feel you & me,
Other times I feel the urge to leave
But I'll stay with you for now,
Because I don't know better.
The only reason I'm alive,
Is because you help me survive.
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 3:00 PM UTC
I'm often faced with the question
"why don't you just take medicine?"
Zoloft
Prozac
Lexapro
Paxil
do they take away the memories
or replace the words slipping through their mouths?
do they stop the fluttering of thoughts racing around my tired brain?
do those tiny capsules create apologies or never said goodbyes?
do they stop my thoughts at the late hours of the night?
do the scars on my wrists magically disapear?
do they erase the images of every bad thing that's ever happened?
do they suddenly make me good enough for everyone I wasn't?
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
It’s morning and there’s an incoming,
your receptors sense a spark of sadness
so they take it
and mash it
and all of a sudden It’s here:
nothingness.
Staring into the perpetual vastness
of a mind that you have
and there are no signs of life
no remnants of emotion that could indicate
something once lived and breathed and laughed
in this abyss
in this blackness
so until Doc bumps up the milligram
for the fifth time around
I can distract myself
with people, places and plants
and listen to his South African accent
while imagining a planet rational to my mind
devoid of even the most microscopic of organisms.
Not a patio brick
or a single tumble bug of my childhood remains,
only these deep lacerations
veiling the beauty of the land which it scars.
Now it’s noon
and the scuffs on my shoes remind me of you
My mind is racing
while Zoloft takes my sadness
and transmutes it into emptiness;
I’m currently still trying to ascertain
which of them is worse.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Good morning, class! I am your substitute teacher, and I will be teaching you your ABC’s today. Let’s not waste time and just dive right in!
A is for Anxiety. That’s that feeling you get when you go to recess and see the bullies waiting for you on the playground.
B is for ******* If you don’t know what that means, that’s when your daddy abandons you before he even gave you a chance.
C is for Cranky. That’s what I feel right now because I had to get up early today to come in here to teach you brats your alphabet, and I’m getting paid **** for it.
D is for Dog. Mine died, and if you have one, yours will eventually die too. That’s another D word for ya.
E is for Empty. Empty hearts. Empty souls. Empty stares. Empty lives.
F is for Friends. Friends will **** all over you.
G is for Girlfriends. They’ll rip out your heart and stomp all over it.
H is for Hell. It’s the world we live in.
I is for Idiot. Which is what you are if you ask a question.
J is for ******* Which is another term for donkey – another D word.
K is for Knife.
L is for Love. Your parents will tell you they love you, but they don’t mean it.
M is for Money. If you want to make a lot of it when you grow up, deal drugs.
N is for Neglect. That means when your parents ignore you cause they’re too busy with their pretentious jobs and their extramarital affairs. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry. Time will teach you.
O is for Optimistic. Stay positive – just not HIV-positive.
P is for ********** Judging by the intelligence level of this class, that is a bright career opportunity for several of you.
Q is for Queasy. Which is what you feel when you are hungover.
R is for Respect. You don’t earn it. You take it.
S is for Secrets that no one will ever keep.
T is for Tranquilizer. I have one waiting for me for when I get home tonight.
U is for Ugly. That’s adolescence.
V is for… Only girls have them.
W is for Wood Chuck. How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?
X is for Xenophobic. That’s what you will all grow up to be because your mom taught you to never talk to strangers.
Y is for Yes. That's what you have to say to everyone to get anywhere in life.
Z is for Zoloft. I should probably up my dose.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
You told me so young that pills make you better, I'm thirty nine and still not better
From seizure medicines, to Zoloft, to sleeping pills, and downers my head is unwinding
I became an introvert, paranoid. That girl is smiling, want to go home where it
is quiet. Sent to a program to cope with interpersonal relationships
The only thing is the medicines make me gain weight
Sleep is the only thing that I do right
Check ups are always fun, are you taking your medicines? The right answer is always yes.
How are your moods? I have none Yes I'm taken my pills add this and increase this.
At home always nagged for forgetting my pills so I do as I'm told.
Have some Lithium it likes to eat the liver, have some Zoloft, Effexor and more.
Another day, Did you take your pills? Yes I did in fact I swallowed them all
I filled my cup, made a hysteria soup. Did you take your pills?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
You told me so young that pills make you better, I'm thirty nine and still not better
From seizure medicines, to Zoloft, to sleeping pills, and downers my head is unwinding
I became an introvert, paranoid. That girl is smiling, want to go home where it
is quiet. Sent to a program to cope with interpersonal relationships
The only thing is the medicines make me gain weight
Sleep is the only thing that I do right
Check ups are always fun, are you taking your medicines? The right answer is always yes.
How are your moods? I have none Yes I'm taken my pills add this and increase this.
At home always nagged for forgetting my pills so I do as I'm told.
Have some Lithium it likes to eat the liver, have some Zoloft, Effexor and more.
Another day, Did you take your pills? Yes I did in fact I swallowed them all
I filled my cup, made a hysteria soup. Did you take your pills?
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
You don't see me coming yet,
but I have already cleared a drawer for you in my heart.
Our first argument will be about how I hog all the covers in my sleep,
or maybe about how I can never shake away the feeling that I am left
with after a bad dream.
I want you to know that I am other worldly.
Which of course means that I am not from this Earth.
My mind travels to and from other universes and galaxies,
other realms of thought.
But I will try to leave a note reminding you I will return.
For future emergencies-
I keep a bottle of Zoloft in my ***** drawer
and a bottle of wine under the sink.
I am not allowed to take them together.
I hope my episodes won't make you think less of me.
I hope you won't forget the way gravity shifted when we first met.
Tape that memory to the forefront of your mind.
So when I am sobbing uncontrollably about the ending of a movie,
or the last line of a haiku
you will remember why you love me.
And I will do the same for you.
You see, I am not that great at endings.
I am not a person with promising follow through .
I get caught up in the beginning of things,
the middle of things,
the twist and turn
thrashing momentum
of things.
I just can't bare to see it all end.
So when or if it does end,
I ask that you lay me gently down and make your exit swift.
Do not linger by the door frame,
because when you tell me it's over,
that is it.
You don't see me coming yet,
but I want you to know I have had day dreams about our first kiss.
I imagine it like an orchestra inside your chest
and angels begin to sing when you part your lips.
The symphony hits its crescendo when we finally get to the kiss.
You don't see me coming yet,
but soon we will be in love.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
A little oval
The size of a been
It's green
And I'm not sure if it's taunting me
Or comforting me
But it's there
Staring
It's hard to believe
That something so small
Could change my big world
I know it will dissolve
Into many little workers
Trying to take the wheel of my brain
For my captain is evil
And they want to help me
Please do help me
I've tried everything else
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 9:34 PM UTC
levitation
orgasmation
the highest elevation
barefoot in the rain
feeling no pain
running for hours
there's no higher power
elation
creation
of a new me
I've not yet seen
Rockstar
Energy
absent the caffeine
higher and higher
hour after hour
then,
slam
she's gone
lying bare on the floor
staring at the popcorn, pop on the ceiling
spider-webby nothingness
filling her brain
filling her soul
alone in her body
alone in her thoughts
lead apron-ness covering every inch of her body
emptiness
loneliness
numbness
love
exactly-like-love
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 2:11 PM UTC
Love is a drug.
It's a depressant, stimulant & hallucinagen.
Love is an anxiolytic & antipsychotic,
It's a mood stabilizer & antidepressant.
Love is the treatment for my instability.
So where is my psycho-pharmacologist?
Where's my script for rose-colored glasses?
Doesn't he see that I need my Klonopin;
My Zoloft is running low.
My Haldol is depleted & my Adderal is out.
I'm shaking with anxiety
My depression's dragging my down
To the depths I just escaped.
I'm seeing things that shouldn't be.
And I'm running in circles, too afraid to stop.
Where is my psycho-pharmacologist?
Why won't he give me my daily dose,
One simple touch to give me sanity?
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
I'm not the kind of girl
who writes love poems
and I'm far from romantic
my two moods fall between
depressed and manic
I'm not charismatic
I'm far too sarcastic
and just from one ****
I can snap like elastic.
But no one has ever
been strong enough to
pull apart the barriers
that cover my heart
quite like you do,
and I know you
hate your smile
but my god
I have never seen
a face light up so much
with just the movement
of a muscle.
Tousled hair
of black and blonde
I am so fond of the way
you say my name
like it isn't something to
be ashamed of.
Like somehow,
I'm more than the sum
of my parts.
Like somehow,
I'm not just a canvas
but art.
I'm not the kind of girl
who writes love poems
but there's something about
your eyes of blue
and the way you flew
into my life
like a falling star,
slowly
then crashing
all at once
finding its way into the
dark crevice of my heart
that was nearly torn apart
but you picked up the pieces
and bandaged me together again.
And this might sound zany
but even just one night alone
makes me miss you like crazy
because when I'm with you
my mind goes all hazy
and I'm convinced
in that moment
that everything will be okay
because you are not just
a boy to me
you lessen my depression
you calm my anxiety
I'd throw away my variety
of pills just to be in your
arms forever
Elavil, Cipralex, Zoloft
are just names
and they hold nothing to you
because you are my
perfect dose of serotonin.
You said,
"I like you more than poetry"
but my words are broken vocal chords
that never should be spoken
yet when I'm with you,
the poet is awoken.
Ballads and rhymes
will fill my mind
but no matter how hard I try,
nothing I write
is worthy of you.
The most beautiful
man I know,
the most beautiful
man I ever knew.
And I say,
cut off the strings,
you marionette.
Free yourself from the
binding chains
that control your every move,
fly. Sing me a song,
you gorgeous violin.
Tear away the
thoughts from your mind
that are constantly
telling you that
you are not good enough
because my darling,
you will always be
good enough for me.
You said,
"I like you more than poetry"
and I'm not the kind of girl
who writes love poems
but I will say that poetry
is nothing without the poet.
And my god,
I ******* love the poet.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
Sertraline (Zoloft) is used to treat depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, panic disorder, anxiety disorders, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD).
Why do I feel more empty
when I am full of pills?
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
There was morality in why women want,
but emotional voids are consumed by consumerism
and it’s redundant, but you can’t feed the starving
food. These days you can’t find one not
entranced by the idea of a “better ****** diet,”
and it sounds like they need to eat out more, but
the Glamour in magazines is under empty stomachs
and proof-labeled wine. So you find yourself at a cross,
cross-eyed and in a skeletal body running in the rain.
But if she wrote Drinking: A love story, and broke my heart,
then she can fill voids with Hegel substitutions. She filled
one with God and one with Zoloft. A baby escapes,
escape that Burroughs found only in ******** and *****
until he met a golden pig and finally blacked-in)
And in the child’s first suckling moment
“Let her be filled.”
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
Pills Pills Pills
Catch me in free-fall
A medicated safety net
I wear my diagnosis
Major Depressive Disorder
Like a scarlet letter
Existing on an island
Between crazy and calm
Lost and found
Pills Pills Pills
Pull me out of obscurity
So I can begin to forget.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
the world is a dryer.
if there is a washing machine section within our universe, I am unaware of it.
I don't work that rotation. I work the dry shift.
tumble low heat, fluff, repeat.
repeat.
in almost every dryer known to mankind, some contraption serves as the lint trap. collect all of the lint and excess laundry fluff as it goes through the dry cycle.
in this world, in this universe; if the human race consists of the articles of clothing in the dryer, I am the lint trap.
it sounds almost cutesy when phrased like that. dryer lint is fluffy and soft and the combination of all the different fibers of the various clothing.
I'm the trap, though. the filter.
I must absorb and filter the excess fiber from every article of clothing. if the entire human race is in this dry cycle; I absorb and filter their raveling ends.
it's ******* exhausting.
here's a better analogy. have you ever had your stomach pumped?
they handle this differently now, but when the doctors, nurses, and staff working in the ER would get a patient who swallowed an entire bottle of ****** with a ***** chaser; or a new mother's young son swallowing her bottle of sertaline, they would get to work. one hand activated charcoal, the other hand with a large suction tube.
activated charcoal is what neutralizes the bottle of ****** or the bottle of Zoloft. the charcoal can absorb **** near anything. it pulls out stains and poisons, neutralizing and absorbing.
this is where the tube comes in. the charcoal is harmless on its own, but the ER staff is in a hurry to console (get rid of) the screaming mother; to move the seventeen year old girl with the ****** ***** chaser to the psychiatric unit, and continue their night.
insert the long tube to suction the charcoal out of the stomachs of the two children. this is often haphazardly shoved down the back of the throat, down the esophagus, reaching the stomach. flip the switch, undo what peristalsis cannot. it's not pleasant. gagging, rough, foul, I've been told.
the body is working in reverse order. vomiting may be easier. the suction tube is fighting the natural flow of the body. the esophagus is attempting to push everything down down down, and the tube is fighting back.
I am the activated charcoal found in every ER across the globe. I absorb the poisons that human beings put into their bodies.
I can pass someone on the street, and my activated charcoal soul absorbs the negativity, the poison, the hatred, the emotional chaos from that individual.
I often wonder if the person feels lighter, noting the absence of the venom that once crippled them. I never ask. I just keep my gaze down and ignore the tempest ensnared within my activated charcoal lint trap.
there are others like me. activated charcoal hearts, lint trap souls.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
you're not in control,
by your mind doesn't wander.
for a few hours everything is frozen,
still.
all emotions disappear,
like a soul in a corpse.
concentration is impossible.
but it ends with relief.
you're no longer a zombie,
but they return.
the fear, and the thoughts,
and they're angry.
you tried to suppress them,
but it made them stronger.
you yearn for the high,
from the drugs meant to help.
it's desperation against control.
allow a pill to control your mind,
not a disorder
the end is beckoning
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
by Kim Addonizio
I have been one acquainted with the spatula,
the slotted, scuffed, Teflon-coated spatula
that lifts a solitary hamburger from pan to plate,
acquainted with the ******** known as the Pocket Rocket
and the ***** that goes by Tex,
and I have gone out, a drunken *****
in order to ruin
what love I was given,
and also I have measured out
my life in little pills—Zoloft,
Restoril, Celexa,
Xanax.
I have. For I am a poet. And it is my job, my duty
to know wherein lies the beauty
of this degraded body,
or maybe
it's the degradation in the beautiful body,
the ugly me
groping back to my desk to ****
on perfection, to lay my kiss
of mortal confusion
upon the mouth of infinite wisdom.
My kiss says razors and pain, my kiss says
America is charged with the madness
of God. Sundays, too,
the soldiers get up early, and put on their fatigues in the blue-
black day. Black milk. Black gold. Texas tea.
Into the valley of Halliburton rides the infantry—
Why does one month have to be the cruelest,
can't they all be equally cruel? I have seen the best
gamers of your generation, joysticking their M1 tanks through
the sewage-filled streets. Whose
world this is I think I know.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
Sally takes a lot of pills
So she'll have something to write songs about
I wonder if she's doing okay
She took a lot of ****** yesterday.
She takes them just to feel
Because her antidepressants don't do enough
She swears one day she'll be famous
And it isn't because of the drugs
Emptier than the space between our fingetips
sally feels pure as she floats up to her ceiling.
Zoloft, Xanax, adderrall
Make for good lines and good stories
She knows without them she'd be like all the other girls
she falls in love with boys she meets on the Internet every week
hoping they’ll fill whatever has been missing
she can't communicate with them for long
and gets bored
their bodies don’t make her feel as holy
as the pills
no floating up to the ceiling.
she finds another one who will pop molly with her all day long
and watch her slender body fade into the sheets
sally loves pills and nothing more
the boys just make the images in her head seem clearer almost
She knows they won't last long
Sally just wants more pills
the streets full of people don't scare her
And the space between us is growing
Like the pit of her stomach
Because it's pill after pill after pill
And one doesn't do enough anymore
sally likes fading away
surrounded by her blonde hair
her body being somewhere else
she feels less empty that way.
No one understands sally
not even herself
She hasn’t told anyone she’s loved them and meant it
it doesn’t scare her anymore.
because when she fades away
nobody worries anymore.
Sally pushed out the boy with the twilight smile,
took six 2 mgs of klonopin and a whole lot of vidocin
And sally invited sadness into her bed, instead.
and let it **** her
all
night
long
she didn't make much sound
just a small whimper
And then her mind went quiet
and Sally left just how she felt.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
At 14 I was sent to the hospital twice because
I was hallucinating which is a fancy way of saying
hey, you’re batshit crazy so we’re going to pump you full of medication
Turns out all of the walls I had been seeing crashing down
and the fires that were never there
were always just a side effect of my depression medication
because I was on too high of a dose for my weight
And I told my ex-boyfriend this when I was 16
and now, 8 months later he is telling everyone I am schizophrenic
like baby there’s a lot of things I am but that’s not one of them
Like there’s a lot of things you are
but a good person was never something I would use to describe you
you're more of a waste of space
and I really wish you had never left Chicago
I wish I never even met you
I wish I hadn’t been so desperate for the way you moved
your thin body like a train down the rails
I wish I had never agreed to play with your hair in class
or sat in your lap with your arms around me tight
or caught sight of you in my eyes
like a glare through a window there was nothing else
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
$12.83
And some change
That I’ve been waiting for
Shove it deep into my pocket
Next to letters scribbled
Un-alphabetically
On the back of a receipt
Letters destined for a screen
Hypocrisy
Two tacos and a tea
Cat food and Zoloft
All my favorite things
$11.29
Am I happy yet?
Am I happy yet?
Am I happy yet?
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
Things have never been easy,
and I have never been one to talk about that.
But I can flip the switch,
a few sparks and a puff of smoke,
and shut down everything
from the inside out.
I can refuse to feel.
And it’s easier that way.
Things have never been painless,
and I have always liked it that way.
(Or so I thought.)
I have four scars to show,
all that’s left from four years
of cutting
and burning
forcing adrenaline to replace
whatever shutdown couldn’t delete.
And it’s less painful that way.
But I am painfully sorry.
Please believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt anyone.
You, especially.
You were the only thing I would miss.
I can’t believe I almost gave you up.
I am selfish. I am cynical.
I am hateful. I am unpleasant.
I am busted, broken, bleeding,
bold and brazen and burned and belligerent
medicated and molded and morphed
and Christ, does anyone know ******* how hard it is
to keep going
to pick up where you left off
when you told yourself
told everyone,
that you were quitting?
When you'd finally dug a hole deep enough to bury yourself in
and they tell you you have to dust yourself off
and climb out
and keep marching?
Does anyone see how ******* difficult it is to smile at them
when you had already accepted the fact
that you’d never see them again?
I chose it for myself
for a ******* reason. And now I’m back
and they think something’s changed?
The solution to my problems
is not as simple as 100 milligrams
of a white pill called happiness.
Maybe this is a chemical imbalance,
maybe my mind is dysfunctional,
or maybe it was meant to be.
But nobody let me choose.
I am sorry. I’m being selfish again.
If you still want me,
after everything I’ve done
to my parents
to my friends
to myself
to you
Whatever is left of me
is yours.
If you still want me.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
They watch me closely
They feed me with pills
Until I'm fat and unhealthy
They show me the hospital bills
nine-thousand dollars for me
being sent to a facility.
I'm drugged up and ****** up
Is that rabbit really there?
I lay in my bed then I sit up
Am I really, truly, honestly here?
My plan didn't work unfortunately
I woke up in a hospital
with an IV dropping ever so slowly
"How could you be so irresponsible?"
Wellbutrin, Geodon, Zoloft and Clozapine
Latuda, Synthroid, Seroquel and Clomipramine
One after the other goes into my mouth
Lined inside my little pill box pouch.
Maybe life will get better some day
Not today, or tomorrow, or next week
But someday, I promise you, I'll be okay
I am no longer a failure, I am no longer meek.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC