Best Depressant Poems
I am currently in training to be a psychopath.
Don't laugh, a psychopath isn't necessarily bad,
There are many psychopaths out there who are highly functional,
despite not having any conscience at all,
or their inability to feel anything emotional.
Finding my inner psychopath I believe will be my salvation.
One can't feel depressed when one can't feel depression.
My pen bleeds
through ink veins
My pen tells
truth that stains
My pen kills
hopes and dreams
My pen swims
in malign streams
My pen ignites
flames at night
My pen explodes
like lethal dynamite
My pen swallows
anti-depressant pills
My pen displays
my poetic skills
My pen lives,
faint hearts cry
My pen dies,
so do I
Poetry stew.
My poetry stew has ingredients of goo
The ass end of a warm drink
The chaser for an anti depressant capsule
A five o' clock shadow
A hangover and panic attacks
The tears of a psychiatrist
Blood from the hands of an ugly poet
A terrified suicide
A kiss never sober
New York City blues and a trip to a toilet after every drink
A friendly goodbye
A stool at the bar with your faith written all over it
Cum soaked napkins that turn yellow like your dying skin
Pathetic messages from people who don't know what you've been through
My fellow punks and beats, modern day philosophers
A strait jacket that fits
A functioning psychotic
A poet with messy hair who hates his reflection
Get me out of here
The lovely taste of a depressed man
Everyone gets a shot
Everyone gets a taste
Everyone can have a drink
Enjoy or be sane.
Such a small place, so much noise.
Finding it so hard to maintain my poise.
Somebody save me! Save me from this cacophony.
Treat me with nothing less than a sweet symphony.
It may be a smallville but it definitely needs some order.
I need a noble. Maybe the man from Krypton. A noise bender. Korra?
Silence is far. So far away from me.
I need an alternative. Something more pleasant.
An aural sedative. A composed depressant.
A while ago, I found my cure. I needed a dose of music.
But I tuned into a wrong frequency and now, all I hear is static.
“Hold on”, they said. “Do not panic.”
But they don’t understand my condition. Drugged with mental poison. My neural arsenic.
This concoction of sounds like scrambled beacons.
A shockwave messing up my mind; producing deceptions and cons.
It’s a whole new level and no sign of the end.
Lots of mixed signals. Even Fourier can’t comprehend.
Here’s my last note:
Somebody help me! I need an antidote.
M&M's and Milky Way,
Snickers and Dove,
Reeses and Crunch.
What do they have in common?
They have something very important to me,
they have chocolate.
Sweet and luscious,
rich and delicious.
An excessive amount of sugar.
This is my chocolate.
I eat it everyday.
I can't live without it.
My mouth demands more and more.
My teeth sing with joy,
they love being covered in chocolate.
I delight in the feeling,
of the chocolate melting on my tongue.
I swallow it,
and my throat is in heaven.
My chocolate makes me happy.
White, dark, or milk chocolate,
orange or strawberry flavored,
filled with caramel or peanut butter,
nuts or almonds,
creamy or crunchy,
it's very mouthwatering.
It feels soft and hard when cold,
sticky when melted by the sun.
It has a fascinating smell.
I know my chocolate very well.
Saliva escapes from my mouth,
dreaming of my chocolate,
my beautiful chocolate.
Day and night,
I always dream,
that unique taste,
that is made with love
and lots of affection.
I'm addicted to chocolate.
I'll die without my chocolate.
During the days when I'm sad,
tears fall from my eyes,
I feel lonely and deserted,
I eat chocolate.
And like magic,
as soon as my nose gets a whiff of that distinct smell,
that gratifying scent,
I feel better.
Again I have a smile on my face.
My chocolate is my anti-depressant.
My chocolate talks to me,
it asks me to eat it,
to enjoy it a lot.
When eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
It keeps me in a trance.
I have to eat chocolate,
I must consume it.
My chocolate is like your oxygen,
I need it.
My chocolate is my happiness.
Dreamer
You've been minus-molded
by big parent media village.
Taught to worship idol's of human teck.
Forgetting who we really are, daily.
Flawed, because they are flawed.
Religious syndron's excepting depressant eyes.
Some rascal's rebel, on the quick.
Pitching the little pink pills.
Like smoke they dull-fade as age hits.
A dreamer is willing to dye, dye constantly.
Joy of the brief point venture.
No obesity feared with whats next, or whats not.
The light is off, and we are all whistling.
Should just Satan and almighty deep-hold.
Come what unknown, and dream-doing.
Don't dim with giving belly-up.
Let go of the moonshine, and cloud nine.
Someone else gave it a name.
Like Nirvana, and the word redemption
All in the inner village.
Dreamer.
Ah! This world!
This Eliotic world!
All the Dubliners!
I went on crying;
“Let me breathe….let me breathe,
Please…”
Definitely neither suffocation is my destiny
Neither the driven depression!
I was exhausted of waiting.
It was soul-hunter!
It was going to suck my soul and refuse me.
Would the rain betray?
Would the rain betray?
A smiling giver heard me passing by:
“It’s your world man;
I am giving you a parallel world.
Good luck!
But don’t thank me!
It’s your anti-depressant.”
Ah! The utopia!
So long heard but so long unseen!
Aren’t you gifting me a smile?
Oh! Certainly “a” doesn’t make a sense!
Numerous is the magic word!
But …but there is something!
The smiles are smileless!
So then …then…
Only tears can make a smile!
This utopia is similar in lacking!
Do you want to know?
It lacks sadness!
This divine world is a million dollar deception!
The best indeed!
Being back to my programmed life,
I met the smiling Giver,
“Isn’t it your best suited life?”
“No!”
It was my turn to smile back.
“It’s all the same!
Whether you erase smile or erase sufferings,
I suffer.
We suffer.
That’s it!
But…you know one thing?
This knowledge is freedom.”
I smiled and smiled.
I openly challenge the words
"People aren't medicine."
How can they not be when
You are living proof
They are.
You fixed me better
Than any anti-depressant
Or the many therapy sessions.
You are the only saving
Grace I ever had.
My ears gently close when the
Peoples' elegant whispers reach them.
"What about when he
Leaves?"
If you leave so be it.
For we all already know, pills won't
Fully fix you. Therapy won't
Fully fix you. But they can
Help you along while you
Learn to fix yourself. Although
When you leave I might not be
Okay.
I will be on my way.
But as for now, I will love you
And ignore the fact that one
Day you could leave.
Because right now,
You
Are all I ever want.
You
Are my medicine.
I wanted to take anti-depressant
By mistake I took anti-perspirant.
Sadly, I'm not in a cheerful mood,
But, I'm smelling pretty good!
The friends im with now soften the craving to drink
Had enough of the alcohol the smell and the stink
As i write down these words my friends kick in
The craving for a drink is strong but i wont let it win
6 weeks cold turkey now its getting slightly easier
The drinking days now getting slighter hazier
Me thinking in drink everything was so pleasent
The realisation now it was just a depressant
Hopefully now drinks behind me and im working to a plan
Ive got new friends now there called diazapam
Taken twice daily there helping the fight
By taking the edge off they give me respite
Along with the diaz's theres other friends too
Theres a friend called zoplicone he helps me sleep through
And along with the metazapine who gets me through the day
The dark thoughts i harbour he helps keep at bay
But.....are these friends, the meds that i mention
Or do they just mask the anxiety and tension ?
Am i just thinking these friends are on my side
Or are they just suppresing the inevitable a downward slide
(6 months on)
The drinking the drugs both negative fads
The tablets arnt real friends there born in the labs
8 months dry now but my life is just fiction
My friends are my life now my new addiction
Confused and muddled pilled up and sedated
Ive swopped demon for demon my thirst isnt sated
Im in the grip of my friends now my problems seem wider
Ive had enough of this zombie state i reach for the cider
Are you in blues? Read ''In the Calm of Blue"
The best anti-depressant,is it not true ?
She churns out ambrosia for the thirsty bards,
Her golden pen is always ready to lead the queens of words.
Her poems bring for us the nectar of divine bliss
Pandita Sanchez, your poems I cannot afford to miss.
Could a psychotic psychiatrist mentally diagnose
A schizophrenic person with multiple lows
The first of them having bipolar and stress
The second a depressant who's heads in a mess
How would they treat such an unique human being
With all that's presented, all that their seeing
What drugs could there be that would possibly fix
This medical condition, oh hell what a mix
I truly don't know just what they would do
These people are out there just like me and you
So never I judge for one day I will meet
That psychotic psychiatrist some where in the street.
As I suffer in silence
Depression grows deeper.
Picking my brain as
times get worse.
I'm stuck in this rut,
I can't break free.
The silence grows deeper,
As I suffer in agony.
Those around me,
Don't see my pain.
From one place to another,
My depression sinks in more.
I'm in a trance
That I can't get out of.
My pain is on the inside
Of my gut...
One more reason to
Lose it all...
My pride takes over.
What pride...I'm depressed.
The prednisone is
Eating me away.
One depressant
And I'm over.
This isn't over.
There's only a few
More days left.
As my suffering in silence
Lets up.
I will start to break free.
My agony turns to dust,
My depression fades away.
It's the prednisone that
kills me... into
Depresive pain.
It is Christmas time, again
I am an errand running
Supermarket slave with
feet tapping, eyes downward
I can't find any scuffmarks
on the polished desert floor.
Check-out line impatience
eavesdropping on stupid
pointless conversations and
f#*ked up weather mawing
I long to strangle the cashier
who offers to help me out
to the car with my groceries
Secret sideways guilt
I smile and say "no thanks"
then I trudge out to the
empty desolate parking lot
Maybe I will feel okay
if I up my medication
just for the holiday
Soul sucking family dinner
too much eating and drinking
as thoughtless words careen
into a minefield of pain
The words are swallowed
by the ceaseless coughing
of my phlegmatic Auntie Depressant
Blinding headache highbeams
Sea to skyway driver
stuck shuttling relatives
home from the holiday
I scan the road ahead
and pretend I can't hear
their wicked whispers and
constant bickering
Nagging backseat demons
The car reeks of old lady perfume
as angry words stab into
the back of my brain
If I jerk my steering wheel
a little to the left
how different things would be.
I hate being alone with myself
Some people might say that
Being alone affords one the "me" time
That is so important for personal growth
My "me" time is very destructive on my mind and body
It just reminds me of how my life has been
Turned upside down, destroyed by the very people
I've entrusted my heart, soul, and mind to
Loneliness is my silent killer...
It eats away at my mind,
Causing me to revisit the past experiences
That have shaped me to be the person I am today
Loneliness is a depressant.
It makes me aware of the things I have missed out on,
And the things I am missing
Loneliness causes me to make desperate, destructive decisions
Loneliness creates in me hate, anxiety, distrust, numbness of life...
Loneliness is a silent killer
If you truly have it out for me,
If you want to destroy me...
Leave me... "ALONE".
Yes, you'll get the best of me,
You can stand back and laugh at my crumbling fall.
Loneliness is a silent killer
An assassin of the mind
A murderous beast
I hate being alone with myself