Precious Tablets
a rambling poem inspired by me running out of my antidepressants before I can get my script refilled

How can a pill deprive my mind
Of good thoughts in its absence?
I must have lost a few precious tablets
In unreachable darknesses
And cracks between appliances.
/
I loathe that my mind depends
Upon a substance I cannot create
From my own sustenance.
The wretched old men
Seek to steal my lifeline away
And contain me within a confining pen.
/
My brain is a sponge
That operates at half capacity
Without my remedies
Or a glimpse of the sun.
Am I no better than a garden plant?
I must be nourished and watered
And fed shit like a mushroom bed?
/
The nightmares creep into my mind
Like spiders into hidden webs,
I am detained within limblocked rigor
As my imagined demons play with my head.
My nerves are rubbed raw
And do not shield me from ghosts
Playing with my memories
Like cats play with string.
/
I have to run
But my legs are sunk in concrete
My arms feel heavier than stone
And do not swing
At my sides.
I am not nearer to the other side,
I am sinking
Sinking faster, faster
My breathing shallows
Let me break the surface
Of my lucidity.
/
I wish for a mind
That did not torture me,
That did not scream for a pill
Like a child screams for sweets.
Let me be okay
Let me be human
Let me be alive
Let me be myself
Is it too much to ask?
About the Creator
CT Idlehouse
I write stories and articles. Sometimes they're good.
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