Promethazine in my Coke.
Hold it in, like medicine, I thought.
It isn't a tough pill to swallow.
Not at this point.
Not now.
Not with all the mistakes we've made.
She's here now, I think.
There's a Jim and Pam kinda vibe of self-destruction
Just hanging in the air.
We're two seconds from the edge...
Of Texas and Tennessee and some Lucero song lyrics about...
... California coming to take it all...
Hold the words. Hold it in, like medicine, I think.
I focus on her eyes. Bloodshot and stoned.
Still glossed over
From some last minute tears.
"Mistakes happen, babes." I lowered my head. Some defensive shell fuckery from my youth.
I felt the tension leave the air.
Hold it in, I think. Hold it in, like medicine.
She runs her fingers through my hair
And
I feel her press in against me.
*Nothing is right in my mind. We ignore it though and she folds into me
I take a breath and pull her in. It's a breath of frustration or euphoria or fear...
It's not a tough pill to swallow, my friend. We've been here before.
Hold It down. Hold it down, like medicine.
I
Got the Doc on Speed dial
Hold it in,
Like medicine.
The bitter swallow
Of your sins.
Take that pill,
You know the one
You like to give.
Choke it down whole,
with your false pretenses
Absent admissions.
Can you please read the scrawl
Out loud for us all
It's the scrip
Signed legit
The problem
cause
solution
For your downfall.
You can ask for
second opinions
but it's time you stopped
shopping around
for a different diagnosis.
You're a headcase
to the max
Denial won't solve that
Rat a tat rat a tat
Now drink down your medicine
Over and out
Stat.
Liar
Hold it in like medicine.
Hold the truth in, like after ten seconds the lies will dissolve on your tongue.
Like it’ll cure realities, burdens.
Like it’ll open your eyes and turn lies to truth's.
Like it’ll purge your sicknesses exposing your sins through the very glands of your skin.
Hold it in like medicine.
Let the sweat coat your warm body as your fever shakes you to your very core.
The sickness within in you seems incurable.
You can't see straight.
Your vision is blurry.
Your truth as shaky and lose as what come's forth from your mouth.
But hold it in like medicine.
No one wants to know the truth, not really.
Keep it close to your heart.
Swallow the cherry tasting liquor until it's bitterness turns sweet.
The truth, bury it.
When the sickness is over your words will be sweet.
The sweet nothing's that I've only ever begged you to speak.
Your lies I can take.
But the truth I'm allergic to.
Your truth's spill hives on my skin.
Your reality sets my skin on fire.
Send's my heart into arrest.
Tell me your sweet lies.
Hold back your truths until your lies I believe.
Until your lies turn to realities.
Tell me lies, for your honesty threatens to be the demise of me.
Tell me your stories, I won't question it.
Tell me you love me.
Hold back your hate.
Hold back your heart.
Hold it all back.
Sip on the medicine of lies; temporary cure it is.
For your sickness will forever spread.
Your sickness will forever rot both our hearts.
Drink back your medicine and cough up stories coated with the cold of your soul.
thank you for sharing your childhood books with me.
Breathe in his thoughts like smoke,
hold them in, keep them stitched to your lungs.
Exhale a chained up series of
bitterly hopeful, hopefully bitter words.
Breathe in the worn-out memory
of all the times he wore
his heart on your sleeve--
hold it in, like medicine;
and whenever you are ready,
let your clammy hands uncurl,
let your shaking body rest,
pause the unending film depicting
all your impulsive, reckless mistakes.
And as you bite the inside of your cheeks,
as you pick at your face, scalp, and fingertips,
you know for a fact that all of this simply means
it is too late to go back in time.
You see, there are two choices, when you are
between a rock and a hard place:
A) swallow the red medicine without
a spoonful of sugar to help it all go down,
or B) pretend it will someday disappear
the longer you ignore it, the longer you hold it
tightly in, never letting it
coat anything beyond the
swollen, angry lump
living rent-free
in the back
of your
throat.
father-son bonding time
carefully, carefully
he says with gentleness
the knife enters her skin
"i'm glad you and I are doing this together"
he says with the widest grin
she scream but the sound
is like music to our ears
me and Dad are celebrating
while her eyes fill up with tears
i want to kill her
but "not just yet
we have to make her feel it
i know you're excited, Son
but hold it in, like medicine"
It’s Irrelevant
Breathe…needing me is eminent…
Your emotional fragility is becoming evident.
One hit will alleviate. Two can carry you through.
Three or more your soul and semblance will feel anew.
Whether the effects are permanent is irrelevant to you and me,
Our desires entwine, the need to be free.
You concern me deeply. Your light grows dim.
Living most of your life striving to sink yet not swim.
Pitty and shame you’ve got such a nice heart,
lacking being the right “type”, this world’s torn it apart.
Pitty and shame.. you’ve got such a warm soul..
The weight of being human has taken its toll..
Never the right gender..the right color.. the right origin or race.
Never the right clothes..the right fashion..the right poise or grace.
You either talk too little..or you talk too much…
You should try being more like such and such…
Either obnoxiously holy…or repulsively riddled with sin…
Not realizing they’re the real wolves dressed in sheepskin.
Crippling is our desire ..the need belong,
you in this world…me in your lungs…
You’ll be cast out and shunned by all except me,
my existence will thrive through your necessity.
All this being said, do not wait. Let’s begin.
Breathe….Hold me in…. I am your medicine.
An Ending For a Generation Lost
And oh!
Hear the thunderous bombs
As they descend upon our land!
Falling fantastically in rhythm,
Like giant fists upon a synthesizer.
Perfectly in tune
With a solemn way to perish this day.
I hear them cry!
Oh, gather the school children about!
Let us not misstep
Along these trails towards the bunker not far ahead.
But we can hear them,
Trotting;
Marching about the schoolyard
In search of civilians.
And we must quiet the children –
Silence their panicked cries;
Soothe their little wails as they just follow us in confusion.
“Shh….”,
I calmly hum to the little crowd of toddlers.
“We mustn’t say a word,
Not a step too loud.
Now dry those tears
And soften those cries –
Hold it in like medicine.”
And that burning lump that lodges itself awkwardly in my throat,
Tastes bitter and sour as I bite my tongue
In a wayward attempt to not scream.
Holding my breath,
Barely breathing through my nose,
The sour numbness makes my mouth water.
The instinct to run amok in an irrational daze
Plays violently with my sensibility.
But I must hold on tight to those little ones’ hands,
For we are almost there –
I can see the doors to our safety just right up ahead!
“I believe we will make, dear children!”,
I sang out to them.
But alas –
A brightness flashed before our eyes like we had never seen before.
I watched as the ground rumbled,
As it ascended like a tidal wave,
For a mere solid second,
Only to swallow us up.
And into the ground we have fallen.
Fallen.
Catch Me, Bastards, If You Can
Hold it in like medicine.
Hold it in, like you might puke,
the words thrown forth from your stomach that make you sick.
Hold it in like you might feel the word salad fall out when you rage,
when you pop off at the woman who fucking scratched your car door with her shitbox.
Hold it in like you might have run from the scene,
like the police are hot on your tail and you're clearing bush after bush, going for the escape.
Hold it in, hold it in like you're taking the pill, swallowing the shitfest your boss laid on you.
The one he made you eat, that he set you up to fail with so he might be smug when he has someone to blame.
So choke down some fucking pills,
pour the gasoline on the fire and fucking dance to your hearts content.
Strip the clothes off,
rise up on naked.
Do the dance of the insane,
so that society might get a glimpse of how very done with it all you are.
Till the police catch up and they slam you to the ground,
hands around your back, face smooshed into the disgustingly moist Earth
and water onto your fire, sizzling and hissing into obscurity.
Rise up to your knees,
forced to be going back.
To be fed more fucking medicine.
Like you ever needed it in the first place.