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The Pusher

The book is closed and I go down

The blood is withdrawn

I wait

My daughter cries

It’s tantamount to a funeral

I see myself slowly dying

I wait

The ups and downs

Steamrolling my frightful life

They have the control

I wait

They push

I wait

Nettles in my brain

The sting as thoughts brush against thoughts

A rash of indoctrination

Must think me better

Holistic hogwash

They push

They push

I wait

Having to prove myself

Biweekly

Weekly

Taking in what they force down my throat

People meant to help

People in support

Betrayal

A bastardization of a system

Putting bandages on bleeding thoughts

Bandages after bandages

Thoughts seeping out from under the sticky residue

Sucking back capsule after capsule

One for the night

One for the day

One for coupling of both

One to sleep

One to stay asleep

One for the voices in the corners of my home

In the corners of my head

They Push

Back to normalization

They push

To standardization

They push

Acclimation

A bandage on my brain

I have chased the rabbit for too long now

The pusher is at the door

The duck is in the hole

George calls from the darkness

From the corners

From the darkest shadows

I wait

The voices burbling in my mind

Talking to the bottom of a coffee cup

I wait

I wait

They push

Having to prove myself

That’s what hurts

You understand me so well

For a lifetime

A lifetime of aggression

Of social awkwardness

Of bad decisions

Of selfishness

Trying to explain

To you

To myself

To those around me

I take a pill

The darkness is held in check

Caged in an artificial jail of a chemicals byproduct

Oh the darkness is watching

Raging in its cell

Waiting for any vulnerability

To escape is the intention

They don’t understand

They don’t see the rage in its eyes

They push

They push

I push back

Trembling

A static tick waiting to explode

Wondering how to remove the batteries

A wind-up toy for the easily amused

A gathering aroused by my pain

Getting off while I tremor and stutter

I wait

A joining of broken minds

To selves that almost meet in the center

Something intangible barely containing the disorder

Voices bespeak of demons

Failure of my faith

Belief system

Lack of wanting to be better

Push

Push

Push

Pushed from too many sides

Pulled into too many beliefs

The acquiescence

The complete hell and sorrow

The pusher knows

The pushers take

The arrogance of a corporation to declare my well being

All for a pittance of the dollars they’ll save

They’re the sick ones

They’re the demons

They’re the pusher

All the while I’m left to bleed out into a neurotic disorder

Staring into an incorporeal void

I wait


Written by

Norman Boyington


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