Benadrilled
Benadrilled
I looked for awnsers on the pyschonaut wiki for symptoms of recreational benadryl use
I have found the awnsers I wasn't seeking. Here in my tired eye I see the human condition, and it is unbearably lonely.
I skirted an empty void like a water bug on a puddle, to me this puddle was an entire ocean
In the Breaking Bad episode "Fly", sandwhiched somewhere almost exactly in the middle of the show, Jesse Pinkman drugs an increasingly volatile and unhinged Walter White to finish a drug cook he was otherwise interfering with.
Though Benadryl is most typically used as perscribed for sleep, it is becoming more widely known in modern times as an OTC recreational drug. Those who take large doses to try and achieve its hallucinegenic effects often have terrible trips, and people have been known to fatally overdose.
Ive personally have never experianced worse depressive episodes then I did hungover from Benadryl. My past abusing otc drugs is a fly in my sobriety from such substances. When I find myself in the clutches of addiction, everything was always contaminated. Nostalgia I think is a yearning for a percieved serenity that doesn't exist. A desire to escape ones own mind that outweighs the pains of drug abuse, a self harm in and of itself.
I never wanted to quit drugs more then when I was in the throws of drugs like DXM and Benadryl. I wallow in this feeling of death with the fear I've lived too long. My body is a rickety ladder on top of boxes on wheels.
I dream of an afterlife, hope as I do for a sign like water...on mars...
More Posts from Dreamgazerswritingblog and Others
Un
Like my hearts beating there
I put my hands to my ears
In silent noise
The rumble of muscle
My eyes dialate
My mouth is dry
Like im going to die
I wait in anticipation of silence
To wash over a million hearbeats
I close my eyes
But fades of blue so faint, so fucking faint as nothing
Is still something
Im my meditation of death
Death illudes me
And i will never see her coming.
Slendher
I graze upon you with invisible fingers
Memories of touch tug at me
Like puppet strings
Memories of you
Dwindle
My heart a needle
Thoughts a thread againat
A thymbel
I love you
But I am breathless
I want to eat you only with my lips
And maybe my mouth
You are small like me I think
A lot like me I think
I see you eldest
When I look in the mirror.
You are me
But beautiful and thin
I want to taste it
Sin
Borne in blood
Between us
I cannot speak it
I'd say I love you
But I am breathless
I dont know from which mod this book came from but it's an excellent addition to the lore, and a wonderful story. Reminds me of the Argonian account insofar as it both builds an less familair elder scrolls setting and tells an interesting funny story to boot.
(It might be Books, Books Books? Its probably that mod)
Remember kids: Blowing up the Death Star was seen as, and is, a based thing to do.
Killing Emperor Palpatine was based
Look what happened to Anakin for letting a man live to "stand trial" when he was clearly and obviously evil.
I live to see evil eradicated, sometimes it is that simple.
This is allowed at my house if you know me
You ever been in a state where you physically have no energy, but you're bored and socially understimulated so you kind of wish you could just invite people to come over like this:
Black Tape
I saw her in my favorite film, locked away in locks of black tape, tied and spun unspun, she comes undone and back again.
She is a VHS tape, or the film on that tape, or perhaps the reel on the wheel, perhaps her heart the mysterious motor as equally unknown to me as the human heart.
Maybe she's her eye on the screen, magnetic gaze on a magnetic image, the magnitute of all those pixels buzzes like an earthquake far away...
I seek her in my memory but my memorys go by too fast, im rewinding the tape. I wear her memory as she wears me with her look, undressing whatever it is that makes me me so that she can be me.
I must see her in my dreams but i forget. I wake up on a pile of black tape, sometimes wishing she could tie me up in it. Tie me in knots and spin her web till im but a mummy, ready to sleep forever and never forget my dreams again...
The Wired
Present Day.
Present time
To me differently
Where the past isnt so far away
Words like rock;
Fill out fossils of my soul.
Fill out the fossils
Of my fucking soul
Fossils like old computers.
Soul like the humm and buzz
Of a CRT TV.
Sounds like telephone poles.
Words carry
Over a billion telephone poles
Is my conciousness real
Or theirs?
Terror.
Blur on a black screen not blank
As if electricity still itches
Under its glass skin
A glossy glimpse of my eyes
I long for a longer time
As I look into my own eyes
I see the wires
Vessels of blood and butchery
Bathing in that black
They anticipate a world beyond my own
When I let go of my life
Wal Mart
Sterile non places, lights and rows lights and rows lights and rows, rowing down the lazy river. But everything is still, so still I shop. My cart a mimic on wheels, its maw enough to consume all. Chaos is concealed, soon it is congealed in my cart. It mimics me, im not much different the way i wheel around and eat and buy, i buy you, i eat you, i eat buy, i get by. Im checking out these words but I stopped caring or listening this poem making minimum change, pocket change i collect them, a penny for my thoughts. I swipe a card, you check me out, i check you out. Did i swipe it, did i shop lift? I wanna lift this whole fucking shop into the sun. But i come out of sterile light to a gray sky, and the sun is nowhere in sight.
Water doesnt behave like it should
It sticks to itself
Somehow its wet
The river cries
I wipe away its tears
Rinse it out of my clothes
Why try not to get wet
When its always raining?
Just have a smoke with me
With whatevers ashes left
Hi! My name is Dreamgazer (25/TransWoman) and this is my writing blog! (I might also post original art). I take requests for poems and short stories as well. Minors DNI!!
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