Voice of the Accidental Addict
To those few prescribing doctors who are a little too free doling out their magic potions.
magic potion
Oh Doctor, Oh Healer,
I came to you with a psychosis I could not melt
and walked away with a euphoria I could not forego.
I needed an ear; you gave me a hand
in which swam the panacea for chronic aches that inflict
only my mind.
Oh Doctor, Drug Dealer,
Your pretty little purple pills (prescriptions and promos)
flood my periaquaductal gray,
sedating my senses and inundating my insecurities
with a jolting release I thought I’d
never find.
solid ocean
Oh Doctor, Revealer,
My wings spread under your Methadone Magic, but
Like Icarus, get burned as I near the
heat no amygdala could tolerate, no hypothalamus could dissipate
and no synaptic receptor, no matter how sensitive, could
fully bind.
Oh Doctor, Heart Stealer,
Along with my mania you’ve taken my memory,
along with my symptoms you’ve taken my sanity
and replaced them all with a synthetic stare and
side effect smile — no longer honest,
no longer kind.
sandpaper lotion
Oh Doctor, Deep Feeler,
Tell me you feel the passion and pain I shed
after your Halothane Heaven circulates through
the tiniest arterioles and your Miniature Miracle
lifts away each ounce of identity by which
I’m defined.
Oh Doctor, Fast Wheeler,
You take vacations on my drug holiday
since Prozac and Paxil and Zoloft have made you
my own private pharmaceutical,
my phantasmagoric pharmacist, my dealer
redefined.
flatlined emotion
Oh Doctor, Slow Kneeler,
Who is your god when the temples of trust
have been razed before your unquivering hand, and the
Hippocratic oath, announcing your dedication to
me and only me, remained unsaid, unread,
And unsigned.
Oh Doctor, Fate Sealer,
When you place in my hand that miracle prescription
replete with side effects, addictive effects, mind-numbing
effects and no effects, you are scribbling the
permanent lines on my palm, and to those, my dear doctor, I
am resigned.