Medicated

There is a ringing, a pitch unheard,

it stays between my ears to squirm

inside my head. Unnerving consequence

of a lucid mind. Slowed thought

like thinking through peanut butter,

and suspended emotions, but 

long-winded.

I’d run from feeling, but instead

crave the social enigma that stays lost

to me. 

Volunteer for functions I don’t quite 

understand or feel welcome at,

fail at small-talk,

be told to go relax.

Much of my day passes through

a spectrum of confusion,

undertones of inadequacy.

Is a sound mind to be thus polluted?

If only slowed, my feelings are still

what they were, no evidence of change.

I abhor the slowness of each sour note,

once at a pace I danced to, 

now I struggle to crawl

out of bed again.

There is no end to this ringing.

It opens every cell in a split moment 

of roiling pain and guilt.

I tamper with my wording again 

and again, to no avail.

Sound convoluted in one sentence,

and disjointed in the other.

How many times to revise,

and make better something I didn’t

do correctly in the beginning.

Attoning as a life-long pursuit.

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One thought on “Medicated

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