the little pill that could
i was withdrawing off the little
white pill that had cost us $900 a month
to ruin my mind.
the terror would come in waves.
the horror sat in me like a black sludge,
coating all my organs
until they were all
gasping for air.
there were days when the terror was so bad,
my mind and body would react to it
as if i was falling from a skyscraper.
yet, i would be sitting on a chair,
or lying in bed,
trying to tell my mind
that it was wrong —
it had the wrong information. i was safe.
i was not falling.
my mind believes it is smarter than me.
those moments still come on occasion.
at those times, i fall to my knees.
i begin to beg god.
i beg him to stop the terror,
let me hit the ground.
— j.a. carter-winward
coming soon: in her rest-less-ness: poems
Read more info on akathisia here.