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lexapro
By Amy Myers my mind was once so loud. knocking on my skull; tyranny, invisible to all, to me, never able to quiet down. my mind was once so loud. lit by merely one, dark cloud. reaching out to the eye of the storm, they responded with the thought that my cerebral fight is out of the norm and assigned me my mask to be bought. i waited in line with all the rest to become numbed into a trance and absolve the knot in my chest with one orange bottle that i glanced. each day i swallow a synthetic seed that slides down my throat dissolving…
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natural roots
By Amy Myers thoughtless days pound in my head, but the absence of thinking prevents my lying in bed. i grow…yet in a backwards motion, like an arrogant tsunami pulling in all sides of the aggressive ocean. my brunette hair creeps in from my roots, reminding me of my overwhelming mind that my bleached hair tried to mute. my bangs fall heavy by the sides of my ears, soon will they reach my chin; something they haven’t done in years. effortless growth with heavy intention, perfectly crafted bleached and toned deception.
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no more apples
By Amy Myers a couplet a day keeps the depression at bay… in the time that i have here i’ve spent it in fear fleeting days simply wash away within the blue lights of a camera, so bright education may continue but my mind stays behind you i am not learning; rather, i am yearning for a time that i can say that i would love to stay
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the two x’s
By Amy Myers sunny days tend to be worse than others, for the inner monologue is so..so loud. i am never enough…not in your eyes, but mine burn in each reflective surface. i hate to see it, but i have to look. my weeping circles gaze back at me, begging to be loved by their owner. i’m so hostile….but only to myself. as if i’m experiencing stockholm syndrome within my own body. i don’t wish to leave, but i am so unkind to my reflection. comparison shadows me, like an altered version of myself. i walk, and it’s there. i run, and it’s there. i think, and it’s there. like…
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should
By Amy Myers should. an ambiguous being that holds an impossible burden. it dances in the past and future. attached to the verb of the doer. they should’ve been graduating; they should’ve been traveling; they should’ve been alive… it should be over by then. should gasps for air as those around him confuse his being for selfish hope and pseudo nostalgia for a time that never existed. wishing to surrender my reality, i extend my hand to should, and he settles into my brain almost as if he should’ve been there already. should holds my mind with an aggressive, hostile grip. sadness overwhelms me, and i am now lost in…
