jonesing
can't type
can't think
am i really this bad?
can't focus
it's taken all my effort just to sit and chat online all day . . . i never do that . . .
i want to sleep forever
soon there will be relief . . . i hope . . .
when relief from this brings risk of arrest, of losing all you have . . .
the choice then is just ludicrous . . .
do i hate the government?
no
do i hate the gun lobbies?
no
what do i hate?

the pharmaceutical industry and the strangle hold it has on this country . . . we are told that we need their chemicals to live . . . some of us are lucky enough to find balance without their shit . . . with what was on the planet when we got here . . . but you can't patent a natural substance, god will sue you faster than an offended cam gurl with a lawyer on retainer . . .

some substances cannot be accurately synthesized, or so they tell us . . . they can make dicks herd on men who haven't felt ANYthing for 30 years . . . they can knock me out, make me photosensitive, exchange diarrhea for anxiety, remove all of the fluid flow in my body, terminate a pregnancy overnight . . .

I ran into this on the net the other day, it’s the symptoms for paranoid personality disorder:

A pervasive distrust and suspiciousness of others such that their motives are interpreted as malevolent, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by four (or more) of the following:

- suspects, without sufficient basis, that others are exploiting, harming, or deceiving him or her

- is preoccupied with unjustified doubts about the loyalty or trustworthiness of friends or associates

- is reluctant to confide in others because of unwarranted fear that the information will be used maliciously against him or her

- reads hidden demeaning or threatening meanings into benign remarks or events

- persistently bears grudges, i.e., is unforgiving of insults, injuries, or slights

- perceives attacks on his or her character or reputation that are not apparent to others and is quick to react angrily or to counterattack

- has recurrent suspicions, without justification, regarding fidelity of spouse or sexual partner

i thought this was simply adulthood . . . it's scary what they give names to . . . i can name five people off the top of my head that could check off every criterion . . . and i only know 8 people . . .

as someone pointed out, 10 years ago social anxiety disorder (SAD, to the prozac wielding pros) was called 'being shy' . . .

now, the simple refusal to look outside one's own world and realize that the brightest center of the universe is not one's own anus is a disorder . . . to be, of course, treated medically . . .

scarier still, i no longer know anyone who is 'disorder' free . . . according to our society's own enlightened standards, we should all be medicated . . have any of you ever wondered who is making up all these rules? is a decade of xanax haze a fitting 'cure' for being tongue-tied? we vote for our leaders . . . but who are these pill pushing dipshits who keep announcing that we no longer have to get over it, we can just drug it?!?!?!

and just in case you're not paying attention . . . a prescription is not the only way to get this crap . . . and it's coming out so fast that there is no time for the average high school drug experimenter to keep up . . . would your younger sibling know that klonapin is NOT a tranquilizer? or would he pop the thing cuz it came with the batch of percs and xanax bars he just picked up . . .

maybe everyone is too 'relaxed' to get it, but a drugged life is not a good life . . . okay . . . sure, if i were on the hip script of the day, i may have been able to go to the pool by myself yesterday rather than sitting here getting really stressed out . . . BUT . . . that would have made my solitary

dawn trek to the hot tub this morning completely MEANINGLESS . . . rather than being able to sit in the hot water feeling like fucking xena cuz i did it by myself . . .

so the battles are a pain in the ass and yes, i lose a lot of them . . . but i won't go back to the "stable" chemical induced walking coma i was in for three years . . . the same coma that let me be okay with getting beaten up almost daily . . . the same coma that created, as my wildest fantasy, a vision of a pale green room where no one could get me . . . the same coma that, five years later, still makes me pass out in extreme heat or bright light (and that's no longer taking the drugs, my friends . . . just like the illegal kind, this shit can be toxic - especially when your particular issue happens to be a fear of women in volvos) . . .

these days i dream of laying on the floor of the carpeted bridge of new york new york babbling my love of las vegas to the security cameras . . . oh, i did that . . . see . . . there is a difference. i'd rather not have the balls to do something than not give a shit about it at all . . .

yeah . . . so, by all means, have another beer to chase down that paxil . . . and thank whatever insurance company that is raping you that you don't have to pay retail for it . . . thank your doctor who will change his mind about you needing it before it permanently alters your physiology . . . and thank the goddess no one ever told you that you needed a sleeper every night so you didn't feel the effects of the things that are supposed to make you society-ready . . .

as for me? i'm going to prowl a schoolyard until i can find a 12 year old with a spare joint . . . in the land of rape and honey, the honey is getting harder to find . . . you have to look down . . .

juls
You might think it's my coldness. . .
I only know you
Called it my pride,
That thing
That just made me want to
Distance myself from you.
Not that it made me angry
At your actions, I just
Didn't want to be there for it.
You think that this is my vengeance and
I don't think that you
UNDERSTAND . . .
This is just the end.
I don't play games.
And I don't fault you,
I just have better things
To do with my free time.
We had fun together
Me and you, us, you and I
So don't think I didn't care
I do.
It's just . . .
I care more about myself
Than I do about anybody else,
And though you blame me
For it now . . .
You'll grow up and then,
I really think you'll get it
Maybe even feel
The same yourself.

juls II
Fine . . .
I surrender, I'll bite
I give up, I'm asking
WHAT is your point?
Is there SOMETHING I can do for you?
Now, did I mention
This is getting old?
Come on now . . .
Really . . .
Where was the EXIT?
Get me off this crazy thing, okay kid?
When I catch you
I might just fuck you up.
Oh and . . .
Should you wonder . . .
I'm not prone to vulgar threats
You just really stoke my fires
(In a bad, mean way, sister),
And I don't want to fuck you,
But still you won't go away.

Juls III: Kinder, Gentler Judgements
She just talks and talks
As her blue eyes go vacant.
Her movements, once fluid
Grow halting as she slips.
She can't stop herself
Sliding down her own thoughts . . .
The words are wet and her
Feet are bare in the sun.
She asked me to love her,
Then decided I wouldn't.
Not the way she wanted
To think she needed love
She found herself locked out
Of my word plays for
Not paying attention, but
I'm not a private club . . .
I'm just a girl who's busy trying
To understand who she is and should be,
So if I don't have time to
Put on the goddess robe and
Trite shiny tiara . . .
She should just let it go.