Generation Rx


In the night, the voices come
Beckoning me to join them.
Somewhere on the outskirts of oblivion
A solemnization is underway, and I’m its guest of honor.

An all access cornucopia of colored capsules calling,
Coercing me to join them.
Infinite tiny pulsating voices,
Pulling and pounding their way in
Past the strongholds of my sobriety.

As the countless voices merge,
Becoming one,
Like every night before,
After every battle won and lost,
It mutters just three words-
Everyone returns eventually….

I toss and turn in a state of near-sleep,
A state of purgatory known all too well
To those suffering from restless leg syndrome.
My people,
The in-betweens
Forever known as-
Generation Rx.

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