You stand there in your
White smock,
Arms crossed over the chest,
Same smile fifteen years later.
I wonder who you are anymore
As your voice echoes
Dismissive screams
Disguised as suggestions
For my wailing.
“Hop a bus to the Harbor,”
You say
“Over a bridge.
Live a little
But just in case you can’t…”
Medicate
I stand small in my boots,
A dandelion inside of weeds
Smashed by every brain
Who dismisses my needs;
Who doesn’t see
Things are different for me.
I fade off beyond the windows
To the skyline.
There’s a blue beneath the clouds
That could be ocean.
I swim there as his voice becomes a whisper,
And I float
As he tries to care.
Medicate
There are answers unaccepted
Even for sadness unexpected.
There’s no more bend in my back.
I’ve walked upside down
Using mirrors for balance.
Those days are long gone.
And I stared
At the scrape on your head
Wondering if you fell
Because you’re aging
And just don’t care anymore.
Not a lost heart,
But a man tired
From carrying the remnants
Of sickness hung around his neck,
Seeped into his stethoscope
Beginning to squeeze his throat.
They don’t use it, you know.
It just looks…
Doctory.
Medicate
I laugh for you.
What a beautiful mask,
All brilliant glow of teeth,
Age lines posing as dimples
Make sideways jokes
A temporary anecdote.
I am a dipping bird
Desperate for worms,
And you are watching as if
My flying is a dance
While I hope for chances.
I nose dive
Into the hive.
I count emotion as it passes.
Anger
Despair
Confusion
Weariness
My body is consumed
As your fingers type out scripts
Because letters spell loneliness
And your scientific ride
Is the most toxic drift.
Medicate
Here we go.
Papers pressed in hands,
Urgent goodbyes;
I inhale in the parking lot
Staring at the setting sun
I’m just another one
Last lock for the day.
Nothing in this is changing,
Just passing by and waving.
When a heart has been danced upon
Until it is trodden earth,
When indifference becomes
The script to numb the hurt
When you can’t see the answer
Is the atmosphere that
Where I breathe
I die.
Where I breathe
I am alive.
And you
Want to anesthetize it,
Like purity holds no power,
Pain should be pacified,
And all the while I am just
Frozen inside these boots.
So tell me, doctor, what would you do?
Medicate?
Vennie Kocsis
©venniekocsis.com
Reblogged this on Darque Thoughts.
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