Promethazine in my Coke.
Hold it in, like medicine, I thought.
It isn't a tough pill to swallow.
Not at this point.
Not now.
Not with all the mistakes we've made.
She's here now, I think.
There's a Jim and Pam kinda vibe of self-destruction
Just hanging in the air.
We're two seconds from the edge...
Of Texas and Tennessee and some Lucero song lyrics about...
... California coming to take it all...
Hold the words. Hold it in, like medicine, I think.
I focus on her eyes. Bloodshot and stoned.
Still glossed over
From some last minute tears.
"Mistakes happen, babes." I lowered my head. Some defensive shell fuckery from my youth.
I felt the tension leave the air.
Hold it in, I think. Hold it in, like medicine.
She runs her fingers through my hair
And
I feel her press in against me.
*Nothing is right in my mind. We ignore it though and she folds into me
I take a breath and pull her in. It's a breath of frustration or euphoria or fear...
It's not a tough pill to swallow, my friend. We've been here before.
Hold It down. Hold it down, like medicine.
I
Got the Doc on Speed dial
Hold it in,
Like medicine.
The bitter swallow
Of your sins.
Take that pill,
You know the one
You like to give.
Choke it down whole,
with your false pretenses
Absent admissions.
Can you please read the scrawl
Out loud for us all
It's the scrip
Signed legit
The problem
cause
solution
For your downfall.
You can ask for
second opinions
but it's time you stopped
shopping around
for a different diagnosis.
You're a headcase
to the max
Denial won't solve that
Rat a tat rat a tat
Now drink down your medicine
Over and out
Stat.
Liar
Hold it in like medicine.
Hold the truth in, like after ten seconds the lies will dissolve on your tongue.
Like it’ll cure realities, burdens.
Like it’ll open your eyes and turn lies to truth's.
Like it’ll purge your sicknesses exposing your sins through the very glands of your skin.
Hold it in like medicine.
Let the sweat coat your warm body as your fever shakes you to your very core.
The sickness within in you seems incurable.
You can't see straight.
Your vision is blurry.
Your truth as shaky and lose as what come's forth from your mouth.
But hold it in like medicine.
No one wants to know the truth, not really.
Keep it close to your heart.
Swallow the cherry tasting liquor until it's bitterness turns sweet.
The truth, bury it.
When the sickness is over your words will be sweet.
The sweet nothing's that I've only ever begged you to speak.
Your lies I can take.
But the truth I'm allergic to.
Your truth's spill hives on my skin.
Your reality sets my skin on fire.
Send's my heart into arrest.
Tell me your sweet lies.
Hold back your truths until your lies I believe.
Until your lies turn to realities.
Tell me lies, for your honesty threatens to be the demise of me.
Tell me your stories, I won't question it.
Tell me you love me.
Hold back your hate.
Hold back your heart.
Hold it all back.
Sip on the medicine of lies; temporary cure it is.
For your sickness will forever spread.
Your sickness will forever rot both our hearts.
Drink back your medicine and cough up stories coated with the cold of your soul.
thank you for sharing your childhood books with me.
Breathe in his thoughts like smoke,
hold them in, keep them stitched to your lungs.
Exhale a chained up series of
bitterly hopeful, hopefully bitter words.
Breathe in the worn-out memory
of all the times he wore
his heart on your sleeve--
hold it in, like medicine;
and whenever you are ready,
let your clammy hands uncurl,
let your shaking body rest,
pause the unending film depicting
all your impulsive, reckless mistakes.
And as you bite the inside of your cheeks,
as you pick at your face, scalp, and fingertips,
you know for a fact that all of this simply means
it is too late to go back in time.
You see, there are two choices, when you are
between a rock and a hard place:
A) swallow the red medicine without
a spoonful of sugar to help it all go down,
or B) pretend it will someday disappear
the longer you ignore it, the longer you hold it
tightly in, never letting it
coat anything beyond the
swollen, angry lump
living rent-free
in the back
of your
throat.
Hold it in like medicine...
'Hold it in like medicine... The world doesn't want to see or hear your struggles, everyone has there own thing to worry about. You don't want to be a bother. Bottle it up, keep it inside, act normal, no one can know.'
The voice went round and round, repeating itself over and over. It had no name, no identity, though it felt like the one part of me I could trust, had to trust.
"Aunty Kayla?" i looked down. Brett, my five year old nephew asked.
"Yes honey?" I replied, I blinked eyes focused on the ceiling, tears sliding back. I thanked my lucky stars that my mascara hadn't smudged.
"Theres rainbow cake!" Brett grinned. "I went with mumat te my to the bakery and picked it myself." He paused, his train of thought broken. "Um- oh! And do you want some." He beemed, having just remembered what he had come to say.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to have some in a bit." My smile not even close to true. "Especially if you picked it."
"Ok!" Brett tottered off, the tips of his fingers caked with icing.
I glanced round, ready to leave. I didn't want to stay round people eating any longer. If I saw everyone munching on cake, well I might just be tempted to-
'Don't even entertain the idea.' I almost groaned aloud. I slipped further into my quiet corner. Children played party games in the very centre of the room, newspaper from the pass the parcel lay in clumps surrounding them. Streamers hung from the ceiling all variety of colours. A Disney soundtrack poured out of my brother in laws cheap speakers. perched precariously on a stack of draws.
I was ready to leave. I quietly walked past guests, all with paper plates, laughing joyously.
'You don't need them.'
I unlocked my car, climbing in to the drivers seat. Hands on the steering wheel, keys in the ignition, foot lightly tapping the gas- I couldn't drive. Fat tears ran down my cheeks, it was all to much. My vision blurred, as my sobs grew louder. I couldn't breath... I heard a knock on my car door. I took a big sniff, though I could do nothing for the flow from my eyes. I unlocked the car door.
"Hello Aunty, I brought you cake." Brett smiled, a piece of cake laid neatly on a napkin. I sniffed again. Shoving the cake into my trembling hands, Brett expertly climbed on to my lap, hands resting on the steering wheel. He grinned at me, icing now stuck to my steering and dashboard.
Slowly, I nibbled at the cake. Brett followed suit, wiping a big glob of icing off the top into his open mouth. I laughed. He laughed to, continuing to eat icing, slowly we worked through the cake. My shoulders shook and there we sat laughing,
I sighed, ready to take Brett back to the party. Fully aware of my mascara stained cheeks.
"Aunty." Brett said. I looked at him. "That was food cake." I smiled. I knew what I was going through couldn't be held in anymore. And I knew I'd need more help than cake in car, with my adorable nephew, but it was a start at least.
father-son bonding time
carefully, carefully
he says with gentleness
the knife enters her skin
"i'm glad you and I are doing this together"
he says with the widest grin
she scream but the sound
is like music to our ears
me and Dad are celebrating
while her eyes fill up with tears
i want to kill her
but "not just yet
we have to make her feel it
i know you're excited, Son
but hold it in, like medicine"
It’s Irrelevant
Breathe…needing me is eminent…
Your emotional fragility is becoming evident.
One hit will alleviate. Two can carry you through.
Three or more your soul and semblance will feel anew.
Whether the effects are permanent is irrelevant to you and me,
Our desires entwine, the need to be free.
You concern me deeply. Your light grows dim.
Living most of your life striving to sink yet not swim.
Pitty and shame you’ve got such a nice heart,
lacking being the right “type”, this world’s torn it apart.
Pitty and shame.. you’ve got such a warm soul..
The weight of being human has taken its toll..
Never the right gender..the right color.. the right origin or race.
Never the right clothes..the right fashion..the right poise or grace.
You either talk too little..or you talk too much…
You should try being more like such and such…
Either obnoxiously holy…or repulsively riddled with sin…
Not realizing they’re the real wolves dressed in sheepskin.
Crippling is our desire ..the need belong,
you in this world…me in your lungs…
You’ll be cast out and shunned by all except me,
my existence will thrive through your necessity.
All this being said, do not wait. Let’s begin.
Breathe….Hold me in…. I am your medicine.
Frankie say Relax
Hold it in, like medicine…
Bite the bullet, and make the best of things.
Should I swallow my words,
I’ll do no more than grin.
Taking it on the chin.
Regardless of the fact I might be bitter within.
Because fussing bout Robitussin has a childish ring.
When someone’s asks if I can keep a secret. It makes me cringe.
I ain’t no stool pigeon.
Or Canary that sings.
Swallowing one’s pride.
Though wise. Still stings.
But saving your best for last.
Just might be the best medicine.