|The long-hand written poem|
My mind rewinds to a time when I could think straight.
Childhood memories swirling like silent black and white films in my head.
Pharmaceutical drugs pulse through my veins.
My heart races to catch up with my brain as it rambles on and on.
Hands shake so violently,
fingers drag relentlessly through my hair.
I tug until strands of blond give.
Scratch at my skin because I cannot sit still.
I close my eyes but voices mock me.
I have to do something.
I breathe in deep.
Exhale and repeat.
I slap my face, then laugh uncontrollably.
I hope to break through
Separate myself from my racing thoughts.
In my mind I am doing ninety,
Warp speed in a 67' Camero, on Montauk Highway.
I think this must be what over dosing feels like.
My eyes roll, into the back of my skull.
I can't see anything clearly.
Transparent film clouds my eyelids,
the images of my art book move before me
I promise I'll never take four different pills at once again.
Knowing tomorrow that I will.
Empty words are what they are.
I do my best to persuade God to get me through all of this.