Diazepam dribble
stains your off-white shirt
the colour of the skin
it sticks to.
The contraption in your hand
should have been a book, any book.

What is this aversion
to the light of the sun
and it's reflections?
All these artificial sources
are sharp strings scraping
the backs of eyes; wired-open.
Despite the depressant.

Class A prescriptions, yellow
like sodium lights,
douse anxiety in the
calm before
unexpected withdrawal.

Mangled mind, confused by wires
and rigid unyielding
from the IQ-sclerosis
of salty sedatives.

Just floating on the surface of
society approved sanity
with the buoyancy of benefits
and the opinionated ignorance of
contentment in vicious complaints.

Saturated by a lack of depth,
a rebel made a drone
by needless needs;
absent family;
fake independence;
and the denial that
there could be anything more
than symptoms.

Written mid-June 2011.


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