One Nation Under Pharma

Fidgety digits twisting a worn-labeled bottle between winter-cracked skin.

The first meal of the day I usually sang every morning.

But, today, nothing fills my stomach, as I stare contemplatively at an empty bottle.

I hate everything for which they stand:
A prisoner among an egregious amalgamation of chemicals.

One more guinea pig trapped in a spinning hamster wheel of politics,

Where the rich pigs, fatten their bellies,

And the poor simply get hooked...

On the next best gimmick.

Snake oil, wrapped in pretty, petty, sound bites

Where emotionally solicitous poppy fields dance across my flat screen.

The scant trace - a tiny warning of side effects,

A blur, amidst the promise land awaiting you.

"The hook brings you back," the old Blues Traveler song, teases me into the present,

Along with nausea and electric shocks invading my skull,

Reprimanding me for missing last night's dose;

Only one phone call away to some sense of normalcy.   

The concept of normalcy alludes and taunts me in the same breath.

Normalcy- where symptoms are hidden behind a Venetian blind 

That opens to a myriad of side effects -

The root of the problem seldom removed, at best, subdued. 

Doctors turning tricks for drug companies, 

Naively believing, as did we, in the panacea that was promised-

That a miracle could be found in one tiny pill..

Or three...

Or four...

Or fourteen.

If not, and the bag of tricks runs dry,

"Perhaps it's in your head and you should try the psychiatrist down the street.

I heard he has a wonder drug that should help

With that new mental problem I've now added to your chart."

"The hook brings you back." Blues Traveler returns to my brain.

Perhaps a wise mystic, cautioning me.

Unbearable pain, nausea, and brain zaps are on the opposite side of that meager argument
 Persuading me otherwise;

And I'm not ready for the hell of  "discontinuation syndrome",  today.

I hold the empty bottle in my hand and reach for the phone.

I assuage the deep feeling of defeat and enslavement with one thought:

"They must not be that bad for me. My doctor took an oath":
 Do no harm.



My personal journey. Not intended for medical advice. Copyright 2013