Antipsychotic from Inferno by Pyrophoria

I am god and this is my throne;
I am the heretic throwing the stone.
Swinging at the only voice I've known.
There are people after me as I lie alone.

I feel fine; I feel unwell.
How many pills to fix me from the pills themselves?

Chalk white tongue, stuck in throat,
The sleep is what I hate the most,
To wake without the glorious jolt.
I am two, never less or anywhere close.
I am a cycler, a fighter, the doctors boast.
I have died and come back in a host.
I have died and come back in a host.

I feel fine; I feel unwell.
How many pills to fix me from the pills themselves?

• Experimental
• alternative
• avantgarde
• experimental rock
• female indie
• genreless
• Atlanta