deepundergroundpoetry.com
Metolazone 5mg (yet another for Leah Marie Kozak, April 30, 1987 - July 4, 2018)
Living in this place , this realm , has been
mOtherfucking
hellish
since the fourth day of July, this year, when my
dearsweet, blessed daughter died
of liver collapse due to alcoholsm at the age of 31.
She was no party animal...she never got busted for DUI or likewise.
Always quiet, intelligent, but with an unnerving
aptitude for not following through with
"educational" opportunities. (Uh, kinda like me),
but most generally
a "soft-spoken'', witty, pleasant human being,
and a delightful travel companion on
several trips 'round this mad country
of ours.
After four months of horrid ambivalence re: the issue of dear suicide( me, upon her demise),
I agreed to a trial run of a different antidepressant. So, down the
hatch wit "metolazone"........within a week
watta diff'erence a new be'godded
pharmaceutical a pill can make! ..........of Biblical pro-portions! (lo, I do hyperbolize!)
iyam
(n'ow) perfectly (not quite) content to to "give not a shit" about any'one living or dead, (yet wit a paradoxymoronic) compassion that may indeed super'ceed common 'concepts' of such a simply complicated Transcendence (?)
I so rarely think of her, and the heretofore daily sufferations, and guilt(s) of
my very own making[s], are now but a dull shiv wit no penetrative powers.
Yet,
it;s all most fake;d phony..... [no reconciliation ever becomes possible]
Like like like a subliminal preternaturality that w'ill eXempt me from the woes
(of many) griefs to come from this one Death. Just imagine that, wouldja?
A psychopharmaceutican re'prieve from all the melancholia
that the misfortunates of our descendants were forced to
to "living" for the duration of this asinine eXistance
that wee call truth and fcking Reality.
Suffer
the death of your child
more profoundly than your own
Death, far
more than anything else called
Death......
(et cetera, or whatever)
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
2018dkzk......foto'fMal by dkzk
Published 9th Nov 2018
Author's Note
IT just goes-to-show-ye, let's just fuck ourSelfs ! (fGodsakes)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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9th Nov 2018 1:59am
9th Nov 2018 3:34am
9th Nov 2018 6:19am
I like this almost journalistic tone here. And as always, you make language your bitch 😆
Meds can certainly help. They can hurt, but they also can help. And I'd be an imbecile to attempt to untangle when, and where, and to whom they do.
I hope you're having some relief. My mother soul aches outwardly toward yours and for yours.
Meds can certainly help. They can hurt, but they also can help. And I'd be an imbecile to attempt to untangle when, and where, and to whom they do.
I hope you're having some relief. My mother soul aches outwardly toward yours and for yours.
9th Nov 2018 9:27am
9th Nov 2018 6:46pm
10th Nov 2018 7:28am
This is the most personal poem I've read of yours (so far), and I have to say it is a testament to your skills as a writer. You went beyond the abstract (while still skirting it) and honed your creativity like a lazerbeam, cutting to the heart of many complex issues. Alcoholism, attempted suicide, and failed educational pursuits are all in my repitoir of life experiences. I will agree with AtoMikbomb insofar as to say medication can help numb back the pain of an otherwise unbearable existence (Lord knows anti-depressants have kept me on a somewhat even keel). But they don't change the fact that life's a bitch and then you die.
