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Apples and Brain Damage


I guess I write poetry here, but I'm a songwriter and musician. I'm extremely dysfunctional, Social Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Borderline Personality disorder.

Match sticks grip my fingertips

Like

Heavvyy sedatives

My spinal cord telescoping

Like heavy sedatives

The thoughts that race around my mind

Stop to pace and challenge and erase my mind

My shivering bones

My irritated lungs

 

My weight, my walking, my talking,

My socializing, my thriving and my drug prescribed drive

Spill out in an precise unpredictable order

There are two numbers for every mix-matched colour

 In my head

And that just is not safe to me

So I leave now deserted

And head out hurting

With my heavyyy

Sedatives

I patiently wait
As I wade through my day
And I try to escape, But
I’m making mistakes
And my mind throws me off
And you won’t cut me off
In this mindset of mine
I’m entirely surprised
If I leave you alive
Let you walk away fine
And this smoke chokes my throat
With each toke after toke
After toke after toke
Why should I
Waste my time
Deciding it’s fine
To NOT take my prescribed
Little capsules subduing
And continuing
My self medicating and using

Should I leave myself numb and censor my choices?
Or continue wandering at night hearing muttered voices?

Start the day right

With a screwdriver and a fight

Pins and needles and pipe dreams and night reams I might scream

If I see your face in the screen once more this week

Pirate Ships

As far as I know
And as long as I’ve known
I am a stranded stranger
And this island is my home

My eyes have seen the blue horizons
My mind has touched the great unkown
A ship in sight it comes in blown
And much to my dismay,
The one they call the captain
Is one I know I know

Satan is a pirate and his ship is hard to see
He’s given up on others, he knows I’ve given up on me
So I lay on my back and look at the sky
While the clouds, my life, my time pass me by
I let myself sink, let myself drown
He can never catch me but he never
Stops bearing down

Two thoughts can exist at one time. But no one fucking gets that.

I can’t read
I can’t write
I can’t fucking type

This is the fucking type of thing
That gets under my skin
And irritates until I’m bleeding
It elates this inner demon
Can’t awake inside screaming
Because I’m a space brain sent reeling
With no feeling and stealing every positive thought that might show and blow it out blended in the smoke after the thirty-second toke.
Or I clamp it down raw when I clamp down on my jaw
On these little toadstools, this little piece of mush that helps me step outside the room

Every thought suspending in my head
That could make a man pause
In wonderment and awe
One me lead him to say “hmmm”
I swallow it with M

This girl will beg of me and plead
To tell her what I’m wondering
Or just be something that is me
I will cease each plead with E

Dizziness 

Forgetfulness

Coma 

Then 

Death 

If you would like to

You can drink some

Cancer in a bottle

You can hide away

And die today

No one will find you anyway