A longer poem about being in a toxic state of existence because of medications. |
-Unwell- by Keaton Foster Thy needle Thy arm Instruments Appendages Reciprocal Conduits Straight is the path To the heart and mind Thus the soul Is intertwined Addicts like me Often declare That God won’t judge That the devil won’t own But I am so damn alone In this wicked world Of so many temptations I’ve never stood a chance Designed to fail A genetic mutation Of my parents DNA Two people individually ill That should have never become one A pity screw turned into a relationship Set to self-destruct from the get Mean the above lines may seem But of truth they do bleed Often I can be heard asking Repetitively repeating What’s the point The answer The one most acceptable There is none Doing my time alive Waiting on certain death Always higher than the clouds Tripping over immovable stones Falling flat on my face Unwell What a hell Sick of life Sicker of feeling it So numb I have become The drugs never wear off Because the supply is endless They say that I’m crazy Insanity is a good defense But I’m in no court of law Rather a judgment of mankind When and if I complain When and if I point out The obvious inconsistencies They just give me stronger meds Always to ease my ragging mind They say that my disease Can of course be controlled Muted for a limited time Lessened by the toxic stew Of psychotropic ooze Pumped into my veins What I will further see What is truly real Those lines will Increasingly become blurred To find relief I must let go I must break free and disconnect From what I’ve always understood Indeed winless is the game Pointless is the shame Allowing myself to feel Unconditional nothingness Is what must be done What is said and thus done Comforts the madness inside Unwell Such a tedious spell I’m under The drugs given soften the edge Of the hammer being driven Further into my skull Fracturing the concept of authenticity And challenging my ideas on duality Those more in charge than I The ones with the pens and pads And the pharmacist of speed dial Like to further say that I am at risk Of being one to harm myself Bullshit indeed Because despite everything I know that these very hands Are not the ones holding any Blunt force instruments Being used to cave in my skull… Unwell Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |