8I don't want to take my medicine. I want to be able to choose for myself whether I'm frightened or not. But every hour asks me, 'do you think you need your drug?' It's weakness, that little orange bottle, filled with sedatives. I want to be strong. Normal. Have a chance to be proud. Not … Continue reading I Don’t Want to Take My Medicine
Tag: anxiety
Butterscotch
Butterscotch on the back of my throat. Like thick corn syrup and straight sugar. Swallow down, swish it around, cringe and frown. Butterscotch synonym for sun for the vampire I always thought I was. Swallow down, swish it around, cringe and frown. Butterscotch maple drenched pancakes without the cake heavy in my stomach. Swallow down, … Continue reading Butterscotch
Catwoman vs. The Plig Dress
The hanger lied. The leather pants were not my size, and my cheeks ballooned like white mushroom tops above the black waistband, promising, and failing, to make me Catwoman. Nah. I'm a thick calved black pillar to hold up the white marshmellow balloons, so thick the band that won't swallow pushes them up to my … Continue reading Catwoman vs. The Plig Dress
When it Rains
When it rains the slugs come out and eat all my green attempts to be skinny. They need no shells, no fear of claw, for predators hide from the sky when it rains.
We Manage Us
You make me queasy. You make me long to sleep the day away and never leave this quilted, padded hole, where no one can find me. You make me hurt. You make me dream of jamming screw drivers to my broken brain to dig out the part that malfunctions, no matter how necessary, so I … Continue reading We Manage Us
One Day I Won’t Be Tired
One day I'll wake up. In a time when I figure out the perfect blend of drugs, the perfect ritual, the perfect layout of blankets, softness, pose, pillows, position of stars I'll wake up when I mean to and not fall back asleep, and the rest of the day will be open without trace or … Continue reading One Day I Won’t Be Tired
Tell Me I’m Alive
Tell me I am the amber gold of your fallen leaves, the ones not found and pressed between your pages. Tell me I am the winter fog reminding your lungs that there's such a thing as breathing under water. Tell me I am the green musk of your budding arms reaching to a warming sky; … Continue reading Tell Me I’m Alive
When Did I Stop Believing?
When did I stop believing in myself? Was it when I turned my head away-- it seems for just a moment-- from my main work, the little one who bears my eyes, to write? Was it when I looked away from the page and realized I'm not that far from where I started? Was it … Continue reading When Did I Stop Believing?
To Stop You
You make me tired. Maybe one day I'll get all you and you to stand still so I can breathe and figure out where my mind is kept. But for now, you are tearing aqua marine, a sky swallowing me, because I can't stop thinking, I can't get the trees to just stop and look at me. … Continue reading To Stop You
I Ache Tonight
I ache tonight. Take me down to a cool bed that isn't mine. Dress me up in a different time and call me by a different name, because I ache tonight within my frame, and cannot figure why. I ache tonight. So shroud me beneath ocean colors, seaweed arms to take me whole, and tie … Continue reading I Ache Tonight
Author T.S. Lowe 