My mental capacity of thought drowns in comparison to the artistic energy that surges throughout this slab of meat I call my body. Medication suffocates my personality and rips out my soul, I have become an undead corpse, a hollow meat puppet that goes its way through life pulled by the strings of everyday monotony. Struggling through it all, my inner-self tears its way out, ripping and biting it's way through. Seething hatred remains for the prescribed capsules absolutely guaranteed to destroy my mind and smother the artistic soul within. I have nothing, and I feel nothing… vivactil, zyprexa, lithim citrate. I’d gulp down these sugar-painted candy counterfeits habitually if the after-effects weren’t so unpleasant.


All in the name of the expressive flow of unrestrained artistic freedom, I discard them completely. Even then, the consequences are just as troublesome. I wish there was something out there to help stabilize myself in any other way; it’s either prescribed medication or illicit drugs. They calm my nerves and smoothes them out… repressed feelings and suffocated thoughts. Normalcy is just a word, a goal I can never hope to attain.




I feel like jumping on your face and screaming at my neighbors’ cat. My toes are cold, my butt is numb, I like the scent of gasoline… a sickly sweet smell holding chemicals that makes my head float away like a balloon. Let’s dance, sing with me, hold my hands and we’ll go off into the night humming the same monotonous tune.



Come down, come down, we’ll go to china town: I’ll grab your face and make you drown.