Strait Jacket

I am not an exceptional human being
for we all wear clothes
Slobbing around in PJ’s when
our tranquilized, minuscule world
is encapsulated
in a space called home
Killer heels when we’re facing the
fucked up world and we remember
who we are, and we straighten
our crowns
Perchance a smidgeon of warpaint
as our battle cries holler into
societal combat
Cherry lips and spider lashes
spun with purest L’Oreal

But I?
I wear a white strait jacket
White as in hospital issue
boiled to death grey
Sanitised and purity leeched
It looks rather smart with
my lithium eyes and my
lunacy smirk
I don’t wear it for ladies’ luncheons
as padded cells are lonesome bistros
And all that cutlery is contraband
And I’m not fucking Houdini

When my couture isn’t a
hospital inspired affair
I am living one
Valium junkie
Lithium chick
Watching the wall for
the clock tock ticks
which govern the drugs
which make me well
But make me sick
Don’t go high, you’ll crash
Don’t go low, you’ll crash
Can anyone tell me
how to score
a gram of sanity?

Does anyone want to
hold my strait jacket for me?
Try it on?
Wear it with me?

©2020 Sarah Drury

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Valium

Valium
My old cathartic friend
Take a seat beside me
Fuck the ‘don’t get addicted’ trend
Wash down the pill
Act out the finale
That never fucking ends
In your dramatic air
Of sensory obliteration

Take my mind far away
To some fond childhood day
When neurosis
Was a word
I hadn’t even heard
When psychotic, insane voices
Were just another
Exhibitionist exotic bird
And now when I
Hear them singing
They snarl in tuneless, grimy
Sinister threats
Like my life
Smiling at strangers
When the face in the mirror
Is full of acrid, bitter regrets
And hatred

So I pop a Valium
And wait for that glorious
Blanket of don’t give a fuck
I think my friends and family
Must have mistakenly mistook
My strangeness
For not taking my meds again
Does anyone really think
I would inflict that
Suicidal pain
I’d rather stick
Hot needles in my
Eyes
I’m not that fucking crazy.
But who gives a shit now
The chill starts to spread
I’m starting to feel lazy
If I could bottle this feeling
I could peddle it
Drug dealer hazy
Street cred
As fuck

I pop a Valium
It steals my thoughts
Those charming, psychotic quirks
Mad hatter moments
That can’t be bottled and bought
And I am Alice
Lost in Wonderland
And there ain’t no tea parties here
Just psychosis in a teacup
And lithium cake with a side helping of fear
As the medics binge
on the cream
Of condescension

But you, my faithful friend
I may be addicted
But fuck it
Lithium chick
The side effects are contradicted
What is better?
Blood on the hands of a psychiatrist
Or sanity in the minds
Of the heavily medicated
And I owe you
My fucking life

©2020 Sarah Drury

Queens of Lunacy

Six twenty a.m.
Meds not kicked in
Yet
Another psychosis
Again?
I hear the birds
Free bitches
Tunes as though
Life has no locks
No dirty ditches
To dump
The head fucked
In

Like us
Queens of lunacy
Boasting our
Lithium crowns
Regal but
On a different
Frequency
Time for pill pop
Want the fucking
Crazy shit to stop
The clock
Ticks
Out of time

Psycho mum
Drag my bones
Bust my butt
Necking my meds
Like a Valium slut
Popping the pills
To get free entry
To a sanity club
Crazy has
A price tag
I can’t afford
Ring a roses
We all stay mad

I’m fucked

©2020 Sarah Drury

Broken Wings

This poem is dedicated to anyone who has ever suffered with a mental illness.

I have two tattered wings
That sit like prayers
Upon my broken back
I thought I was an angel
But angels’ wings are usually white
I don’t know if they come
In shades of black
And I know I lack faith
I try to keep my eyes
To heaven in the sky
But my wings are too heavy
I try to help myself
To lift my soul, to fly
But each cloud is a traitor
Selling my sins for my lies
God tell me why
I am always falling
At the first demon?
Am I faithless?

I have two tattered wings
That sit like heavy burdens
Upon my fragile heart of gold
I’ve been trying
Not to sell my cut price soul
To the devil
Since losing my virginity
At seventeen sordid years old
I waited for Armageddon
But you pay for Heaven
In pieces of silver
Not in counterfeit gold
And my wings
Aren’t worth shit

I have two tattered wings
That sit like curses
Upon a mind of paranoia
And madness
I’ve been conversing
With the saints
If I say a prayer for a sick child
Will they take away this
Summertime sadness
It’s a bit late for me
For my shattered wings
To be made anew
There’re only so many things
These days
I can possibly do
Without going fucking
INSANE

But I’ll keep flying
Broken angel
Navigating those crazy skies
And I’ll keep peddling those
Happiness lies
Swallowing the pills I despise
And I’ll survive
On a wing
And a
prayer

©2020 Sarah Drury

Trash Bag

I suffer badly with panic and anxiety attacks which trigger off my OCD. I don’t know whether it is all the social isolation and coronavirus issues triggering off my illness, but it is a nightmare at the moment. Here’s something I wrote yesterday after getting through one prolonged attack that left me bedridden…

Afternoon’s here
Again
Not been a bad morning
But I can feel
That feeling
Creeping
Badass gatecrasher
Sanity stealing
Soon I’ll be dealing
With the
Shit-hits-the-fan
Fallout

Leave me alone
In my bed
My sanctity pit
I feel like
I don’t
Fit
Into this
Fucking world
Anxiety has stolen
Me away
Again
Heart hammers
A thousand thoughts
Stammer
OCD has to
Stick its pristine face in
Pass me a fuckin
Arsenic laced
Tequila slammer
Please

Its times like these where
I wonder if my mind
Is just one big
Lying sin
And my life is just
A trash bag
For keeping my
Fucked up emotions in

And I just want to
Curl up and hide
I just want to
Get off this
Shit kid’s ride
If I don’t get off
Soon
They’ll put me
Back
In-fucking
side.

©2020 Sarah Drury