No one can see it, but I’m poisoned.
Every morning, I take my meds,
and as the pills travel down my throat,
I wonder if this is the only antidote.
When I sit alone in my bed,
pondering my own crippling thoughts,
the poison makes me ill.
Will I ever get this out of my system? I ask.
It lingers through my body—
from my head, deep in my brain,
to my stomach, where I get nauseous
at the thought of my own mental toxins.
Although I didn’t consume something deadly to make me sick,
the poison in my prefrontal cortex
might just be the death of me.
When I walk into a room, no one sees
that every step I take is intense pain.
For now, I’ll go to sleep with this poison
eating at my life
and hope that it doesn’t kill me.
I’m poisoned mentally,
but not physically.
Before I take my meds.
There’s an hour or so,
Or so, or so.
When everything is fuzzy.
I would take a sip of water but the water tastes like the essence of sandpaper.
Then it would stop hurting.
Or so I thought.
Before I take my meds.
I would walk around my room.
As if I’m going to measure the dimensions of the bed.
I like to walk aimlessly.
Or so they say.
Before I take my meds.
There is something.
In between.
Fuzzy.
All around.
A waterfall.
Sprouting.
Before I take my meds.
She hands me a glass of water.
Pills can be different shapes and sizes.
I wish I could be different.
A pill rolled under the rug.
Someone swallowed it.
The man lived at one point.
Then he went under the rug to rest.
I decided to walk on the rug.
And almost tripped.
You can’t forget your meds.
They grow and grow.
Even when they’re hiding.
Like a caterpillar.
A pill crawled from under the rug.
Covered in blood.
The pill has no teeth.
Still-
Thrashing in his throat.
The man under the rug.
There is a man under the rug!
But he died and no one believes me.
Take your meds, take your meds.
A pill that is blue.
Or green or mean.
I sat on the lump on the rug.
Blood seeping through.
It’s getting on my pants.
I need to wash them.
They don’t understand.
A pill rolled over to where I was curled up.
And he wondered why I was scared.
It’s Sunday morning at 8:30.
So I need to take my meds.
I don’t know why.
It’s Sunday morning at 8:34.
I died very easily.
Pills are like that.
They kill you.
Simply because it’s 8:30 am.
Sometimes, I forget my meds.
Before I go to bed.
I did brush my teeth.
Then under the covers I’m beneath.
Where everything is worse.
I repeat every verse.
To my life, I cheer.
As I try to steer.
But all I have is jumping higher.
I wish I was restful, instead I am wired.
At 4:00 am, wondering, if there exists a “then.”
Sometimes, I don’t take my meds on a whim.
I like feeling scared and tired.
I like feeling wired.
Waking up, shaking hard.
Then stepping into the yard.
Shaking spiders away.
Watching the early morning sway.
I will skip my meds again, someday, somehow.
For now?
It’s 4:03.
And waking up early is free.
I wish I was ordinary sometimes.
But all I have are meds and rhymes.
My cat runs and hides
She knows it is time
For her to have meds
Doors must be closed
Only her door opened
She'll go under the bed
Then go hug the wall
Making herself small
Now her door is closed
She can not escape
I 'm chasing my cat
To carry her upstairs
Her meds waiting
It’s just the medication.
That makes me feel like something good is happening.
So that when sleep refuses me-
I will shut up.
And I will be pleased.
What is waiting for me outside those doors?
A family?
My family.
They don’t really miss me anymore.
Huh.
I guess I shouldn’t try to miss them either.
Prescription changes.
Lend to disability.
Encourage clear speech.
sunset meda-stations
stan sand
Sumer is icumen in
a modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is an update of an old classic for those of us who suffer with hay fever and other allergies ...
Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing achu!
Groweth sed
And bloweth hed
And buyeth med?
Cuccu!
Keywords/Tags: spring, summer, seasons, hay fever, seeds, pollen, pollution, med, meds, medicine, medical, achoo, stuffy, nose, blowing, ragweed, congestion, update, updates, updating, flower, flowers, health, daffodils
Right hand is asleep.
Eyes blurry.
Hands shaky.
Left hand asleep now.
Why am I at work?
What was I thinking?
Thank God I did not drive myself.
I do not have that kind of energy.
My body wants to wander back to bed.
But is sleep doing me any good?
Not a whole lot.
Would I be better off sitting in the sun
with a book on my lap?
Maybe.
Before I can register this
I am betraying myself by crawling back into bed.
ZZzzzzzzzzz
it's night
it's night time
time to get off
of work
and unwind but
i have a slip not
the yellow
one mentioned
in other poems of her
but i
popped
yes just like
the corn
my medicine
and then it all begins
again
I can't stay awake
My mind is about to bake
Are they trying to put me to sleep
Not taking them for my sake
My thoughts will not stop
Awake, I did pop
So forget it!
Some poems I will drop
Can't keep this man down
Hardheaded, Yea I wear a crown
And I like it!
Smile, Don't frown
It makes my hands shake
When did the earth quake?
How is this better?
Guess what, I'm awake
I was off my meds
And bouncing off the walls
Cops showed up, Maybe the feds
Said they'd received many calls
Yelling at people I didn't like
Nothing was said back, Good choice
My confused anger did spike
I made sure everyone heard my voice
Cops want to give me a vacation
"If you come you better come deep"
"I will let you feel my frustration"
Some will be injured, Most will weep
When they blinked with hesitation
I pulled a Houdini, And away I did creep
Where are my meds, must have my meds
Dreaming about zombies without any heads
So scary, I'm freaked
Leaving a brown streak
Hope I can sleep in Mommy's big bed
My Meds
“Take you’re medicine”
Is what note said,
What should have done
Just out of bed.
What do I do?
Read, turn away
forgot what said
Go my own way.
Go here and there
Do this or that
Feed first the dog
And then the cat.
Talked to a friend,
Another chat
Go here and there,
Then, there and back
Finally it’s night,
I see the note
Did I take pills?
Answer is, nope!
Not hard to do
Not hard to take
Three times a day
First when I wake.
Then take at noon
That’s easy too
But, then somehow
Forget to do.
Really not dumb,
Tho feel that I am
Just too much stuff
In my head cram
Are you like me,
Someone somewhere?
Taking these pills
A real nightmare.
Now it’s bedtime
More pills to take
I fall asleep,
Tomorrow wake.
What can I say?
For what I do
Do you do this,
Like I do too?
Barbara Barry Nishanian
Oct.1,2017 copyright
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