Y/Y: I Woke Up 20 Years Late

Thu, 07/07/2016 - 21:04 -- NadiaT

I feel so detached, watching the scene happening

How could these blue scrubs be mine? This wristband?

I'm not trusted with a pen, I gotta use crayons to write out

scatterbrained Xanax phrases,

imitating regular habits

Each noise reminds me of an old time so I find grief in peaceful places

Here, let me demonstrate my ability

to find painful correlations

Someone dropped something?

I'll translate: immediate danger.

Damn.

I remind myself this isn't so bad

At least I'm not second coming of Christ like the bed next to me,

I've still got my sanity

But I bet that guy says that to himself too,

and hey, we're in the same scrubs

So let's make a list in spite of my mounting listlessness

I could've lost it, it's possible

After 20 years it's just my mess, I'm responsible

Quit it! They're doping me up and I can't handle that

Yet now my fear of medicine's less impactful than the pill they fed me with

Fuck

Feeling numb

That's alright, the tears are gone

I'm prone to over-complicating complications

That panic attack is a chemical irregularity and you are too,

your savior's medication.

What a simple message

And how many of us have been screaming it

Dope up the kids

Dope up the children

I feel better

I feel fine

So detached here too

A paradise with hazy blue

Is passion my vice

Anxiety my reason?

Who am I without

My jittery hands and unsure stance

Now I sit and calculate

And hum and drink tea and read

Like I used to, younger, yet something’s missing

You live life a certain way for so long,

You imprint upon your soul a way of being

And when you go against the grain you find yourself abrasive

Insatiable

Where do I begin and end?

Combatting familiar rationale with something stronger

Take a pill

Feel the lull

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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