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sestina, wrote on a whim |
Tourette Syndrome some people believe it's a treatable damn disorder, a thing in my mind you can drug and it's fucking done. they see one tic, one involuntary spasm (it's like i choose this shit, like i choose to have a fucking tirade) it's not my fault my brain is not in order. i try to tell them, it's no damn easy disorder to have. it's a damn mental dam- a line of thought that got afraid. you can't catch it and drug it, it doesn't work that way. this shit don't work like clockwork, no tick tock tock replace the gear its face has a tic. fuck this, i'm not out of order, i can handle myself and my own mental shit. i know you don't give a damn about me, that's why you drug me to this fucking experimental freak parade. i'm not broken, there's no puzzle to raid so get out of my head before i get ticked- but i am tic-ed, tic-ing, i don't need a drug to handle this "disorder" you label me by, just another damn name on another damn list of shit- faced little jerks whose shit ain't nothing like mine. no parents afraid to touch their own fucking child, like my damn problems are contagious. no comforting trigger tick-tick of a childhood alarm clock that is the only order left in my life. i can't be drug out in public unless you drug me out of my mind first (that's the only way to deal with this shit). this shit, this headache they call a disorder. they explain away every tirade, apologize for every one of my tics. they don't seem to realize how ashamed i am. i don't need a damn manmade drug. this tic is all me, it's how i deal with this lonely shit, like being constantly afraid i'll lose control of disorder. (if you find any problems with this piece, please please please message me and let me know, i'll fix/change/remove it asap. i'm just looking for criticism.) |