Do I take a clonazepam
Do I take a seroquel
Do I take the new antipsychotic
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
If i smoke **** do I long term fertilize my paranoia
Is there a way to live without sedation
Tight skin
Tight skin
Tight skin
Agitation
Irritation
Sensitivity
Anxiety
Paranoia
The collective static of the tension spots

Internal screaming
Waiting for the clonazepam to kick in

I'm so irritated with high school,
Sundays are worse than weekdays.  
Great, I moved on from living in the past,
To living in the future.
So how do you pull back?

Guess that's the big next step.
But right now,
I'm irritated.

Time and time again
I think of you
all about you
always on my mind
time and time again
I wish you knew
Time and time again
I think of you
I wish you knew
You're on my mind
Like 1-2-3
Time and time again
Why?
Thinking of you is so bothersome
Please thoughts of you just go away
Come again a distant day
Let me be free from these thoughts
That make me feel like I cant be free
From you
let me be free from you
Please

I hate it.
I hate how you assume I'm okay.
You think that the lack of loud words pouring from my chapped lips means that all is well within my iron mind.
You haven't been paying attention to the story I have painted across lines, numbers, and years that pass by.
You haven't been paying attention to my crumbling, marble legs, or my withering, painted-on smile.
You haven't noticed the torn, tissue paper heart within the glass cavity that is my chest.
Whether I'm quiet or shattering the silence with my anguished screaming, you never seem to notice.
I hate that.

A stampede of elephants
Running through the rooms of my mind
As their legless bodies ask
"How?"

A toucan flies to rest on a thought
With two million and two branches reaching towards my heart.
"How many cans can a toucan can if a toucan could can cans?"

Now this monkey must be joking
Those are my feelings he's holding.
And he continues to toss them about.
He peels off the skin and throws it over his shoulder
And takes one big bite out of the happiest one.

And this little duck waddles,
Left foot, right foot.
The left side is fine, but his right
Sends a nerve that clenches a fist to a glass window.

"Quack, quack."

Snip snap,

And there goes the vertebrae in my spine.

My favorite color is blue,
Unless it's on a computer screen.

The president of the horticulture club
thumbs the violet leaves of a aconite
ignoring the shooting pain crawling on her skin.
The other members glare at her,
waiting for the reaction-
touch the frail plant
and your mouth is sure to set on fire.
The contact she has on the flower
is insanely dangerous.
Potent alkaloids bloom overhead
and she continues to breathe in deeply as if she is trying to swallow
the strong, acrid taste of the atmosphere,
which should have sent her into a frenzy of disorientation
and seizures of her small limbs
but at last, she glances
at the frozen treasurer and spoke calmly, her mouth slouching,
"Are you writing this down?
I want the future of this club
to know to never touch plants
without doing their research."
Then she blinks,
slumps against the bench,
undeterred.