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Dec 2015 · 254
Telepathic
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I call out to you to save me from the depths of my mind.
Please help me find a ladder to climb.
Or maybe, throw some tinder and matches down.
Light up the trench that has swallowed me whole.
Help me, please, I cry to you.
But we are not super human.
And telepathic communication is not an option.
So I stay alone in the recess of my mind.
Dec 2015 · 560
Forever
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I’m told that urges don’t last forever,
by therapists and doctors.
If only they knew that an urge doesn’t have to be present
100%
to be thought of as
FOREVER
in this sick mind.
Dec 2015 · 542
Realistic
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Jealous of the people walking down the street.
The people I don’t know.
Projecting my hopes and dreams onto unknown souls.
Seeing in strangers what I want to see in myself.
Recognizing they probably have problems too.
But putting them on a pedestal is easier to do.
Dec 2015 · 594
Mixture
Christina Cox Dec 2015
**** this brain that controls my actions.
Send my soul to hell,
it may as well live there.
**** the body I loathe so much.
This ****** mixture of mind, body, and soul…
It’s such an *******.
Dec 2015 · 2.1k
Ear Piercing
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I pierced my ear today.
        Emphasis on the I.
I bought supplies,
     took the needle,
     and pierced my skin.
Then cartilage and skin again.
Put the earring in and locked it up.
Cleaned up blood with watered down
          chemicals.
I pierced my ear today
                         to get a safer rush of pain.
Dec 2015 · 1.6k
My Depression
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Naked trees and close to green bushes are no longer seen.
Five, six, seven inches of snow piled on branches.
Creating sad plants, drooping down.
Height is cut in half.
Now transfer that image to the soul.
You see my depression.
Dec 2015 · 1.6k
Bravery
Christina Cox Dec 2015
There are people who call me brave.
For dressing different, being honest, and letting my hair talk.
Bravery.
Ha!
Truth is loneliness, sadness, and terrifying thoughts.
I distract you with how I look, how I act
so you don’t ask questions.
My appearance really whispers, “stay away.”
And you do.
Dec 2015 · 210
Untitled
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Waiting in the darkened forest,
laying on the leaves and needles
just watching for my prey.
Talons of blood and fangs of sweat,
the nightmare shows it’s ugly form.
Shoot it down
one, two, three shots
until the glistening blood turns into a river
and I can soundly go to bed.
Dec 2015 · 395
Goals
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Tomorrow,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
Just a little past the wrist.
I will see my scars and I will acknowledge their existence.
Even though it is painful.

This week,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
Almost to the elbow.
I will see my scars and I will acknowledge the pain.
Even though I hate them.

In a fortnight,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my shirt and shorts.
Body parts that are hidden, even to me.
I will see the ghastly scars and I will acknowledge them.
Even though I cannot accept myself.

This month,
I will look into the mirror and pull up my sleeves.
To the point of my shoulder.
I will see my scars and I will accept them.
Even though it’s triggering.

Next month,
I will look into the mirror and take off my clothes.
Standing naked with myself as a witness.
I will see all my scars and I will acknowledge them.
I will see all of my body and I will acknowledge it.
Even though it will make me relapse.

This year,
I will look into the mirror and unwrap a towel.
Dripping water from my hair.
I will see all the scars and I will accept them.
I will see all of my body and I will accept it.
Even though I would have started over.

This lifetime,
I will be with another person and be intimate.
They will see and witness the pain.
And they will accept me.
And they will love me.
*Even though I can’t see the future.
Dec 2015 · 964
She Believes
Christina Cox Dec 2015
She believes that she is nothing.
Yet you tell her she is not.
She holds on to that believe
and ties it around her waist.
Maybe if you tell her enough
you’ll pull her out of the deep.
And she’ll she the light above
that surrounds her when she believes
that she is something.
Dec 2015 · 648
Cycle
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I close my eyes and hope for peace.
Day dreaming of fake angels to save me.
Ready the mind and body for the day,
give into the exhaustion of the soul and stop.
Multitudes of medications to fix the brain
that stays sick no matter the physical exercise.
Prepare the body and mind for the night,
slip into a restless sleep, waking every hour.
Psychological thrillers in my dreams
taking away the peacefulness of sleep.
Wake to alarms screaming through the room
move to coffee and begin again.
Dec 2015 · 954
Migraine
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Lights and sounds
disturbing the brain.
Making the move to
sicken the stomach.
Working to lay in bed
in the artificial darkness
with the loud silence
to maybe get better.
Dec 2015 · 366
Telling the Truth
Christina Cox Dec 2015
There are times I lie to others.
About being happy and okay.
There are times I lie to myself.
About being okay and happy.

But there are also times I do not lie.

Times I do not lie to others.
About being okay and happy.
Times I do not lie to myself.
About being happy and okay.

But those times do not come often.

I would be lying if I didn’t say that
I lie more often than I tell the truth.
I just wish that when I told the truth
people around would believe me.

Just like I believe myself in those moments.

Of course, how can they believe me
when they know I lie more often than not?
But it does not help when they never believe me.

I just want someone to validate the truth
that there are days where I am happy
that there are days where I am okay.
Dec 2015 · 744
So Forgetful
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I forget things.
I forget that I can do things.

I forget that even though I have no energy I can do things.

I can take a nap.
I can take a shower.
I can play with my cat.

I forget that even though I have no motivation I can do things.

I can watch tv.
I can do a puzzle.
I can roll out of bed.

I forget that even though I have a mental illness I can do things.

I can be happy.
I can love myself.
I can be worth loving.

Even if it takes time to remember
that I can.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
From Head to Toe my body speaks
or rather, screams.
My purple hair says, “I am unique!”
while my soul whispers, “At least, I’m trying to be.”
Blue eyes full of stars yell, “I am beautiful!”
while my heart whispers, ”I don’t believe that, but I want to.”
This body covered in scars screams, ”I have problems!”
while the clothes I wear contradict, ”I have my life together.”
Scars on my shin shout, ”I’ve had fun, fallen, and gotten back up!”
while the skin underneath mutters, ”It wasn’t my choice.”
Painted toes holler, ”I want someone to notice me!”
while my mind breathes, ”No I don’t.”
From Head to Toe my body screams
and believes in something
that I do not.
Dec 2015 · 1.9k
Keeping Hands Busy
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I color with pencils that are too happy for my feelings.
I paint with colors that express my dark mind perfectly.
I sew too fast to keep my mind occupied.
I hand sew to find a peace within my body.
I play with Chinese Health ***** to keep my muscles working.
I sign the ASL alphabet as I walk to work my mind.
I write poems to keep my thoughts centered and alive.
I do the dishes to find the time to stare outside the window.
I roll a snowball to get the courage to throw it.
I find some ice and hold it tight to restart my system.
And when none of it works,
I take a razor blade to my skin to find true clarity.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
If I have a significant other,
how will I tell them about my problems?

Starting the conversation about
scars
that are all over my body.
Will they be able to love it?

The conversation about
mental illness
that takes over my soul.
Will they be able to love me?

If I have a significant other,
how will they accept me
for who I am now,
and who I once was?
Dec 2015 · 403
Answering "Untitled"
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I’ve asked it before,
“Is it my heart or my head
that wishes I was dead?”
My doctor would say it’s my head because
I have depression, a sickness of the mind.
My mother would say it’s my head
because the other answer would be too painful.
My friend would ask me what I think because
she understands I am logical more than emotional.
But what is my answer?
Is it the sickness that makes me want to die?
Or is it truly how I feel in my heart?
But is it possible that it’s a mixture and it’s actually
my soul within that makes me suicidal?
Dec 2015 · 2.0k
I Am A Pirate
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Maps drawn with lines and X’s
Marking the spots of interest,
Treasure.
I’ve drawn a map on my body
with lines of scars, scabs, and blood.
The spots of interest being my
Mind, Heart, and Soul
all parts of my body,
marked with an X each.
Which one holds the treasure,
the desire to live?
The search continues,
following the lines
and braving the sea.
Taking over ports and other ships
just to find the happiness
I might hold inside.
Dec 2015 · 337
Just Go To Sleep
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Nightly troubles I never escape.
The tossing and turning of comfort retreating.
The waking in the morning before the sun begins to rise.
The work to fall back into a sleepless sleep.
The nightly energy I spend just to stay still.
The rest of the energy I use just to stay quiet.
Sleep does not visit a restless mind.
Sleep does not take over a moving body.
Until I get prescribed, but the nightmare continues.
Medication does not even help.
Dec 2015 · 326
I Cannot Be Undone
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I cannot undo what has been done.
Especially when it comes to my own skin.
I cannot change what I have felt.
Especially when feelings come from this cold heart.
I cannot change the thoughts I have.
Especially when they come from this brain of mine.
I cannot change what I’ve become.
Especially when it comes to my soul within.
You see, there’s things I know, things I choose to forget.
Laws of the world and laws of the mind, lost sight in the tempest of my soul.
The storm may end but then again, it always comes back.
Maybe a little sprinkling of water, not even enough to get me wet.
Probably another storm with wind and rain going in opposite directions
and I, caught in the crossfire.
I cannot change the weather, I do not have the power of the gods.
I cannot change what has been done, I do not have the power of God.
I can only change the way I handle the oncoming storm.
I can use an umbrella or simply take shelter from the storm.
Dec 2015 · 834
Bumper
Christina Cox Dec 2015
One bump, two bump.
A little bitty crash.
One bent bumper, one bumper scraped.
Two heads thrown too fast.
Two necks hurt just a little bit.
No need to send an officer.
Just fill out the online form.
When did an incident at a major intersection
turn into a trivial moment?
Dec 2015 · 2.0k
Finding Courage
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Ready the washcloth and the drying mats.
Turn the faucet on to hot and let the water flow.
Pour blue soap onto each glass and fork;
Onto every dish and bowl.
I’m searching for the courage to do the family dishes.
To roll up the sleeves of a long-sleeved shirt under a simple tee.
To show my scars to myself and maybe to the water.
Doing dishes home alone, finding courage to face myself.
Dec 2015 · 332
Hide and Seek
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I’m looking for my motivation.
I can’t find it anywhere.
I think somebody stole it
or gave it quite a scare.
It’s gone and gone for good.
I’ve looked in every secret place.
Maybe it just doesn’t want to be found
in this twisted game of hide and seek.
Dec 2015 · 244
I Am My Heart
Christina Cox Dec 2015
If I could then I would. I would change for you.
Change my soul, change my head, even change my body.
I’ve even tried an I’ve found that I can’t.
I cannot change anything. I cannot change for you.
Oh, dear heart, I cannot change to make you keep beating.
Sooner or later, we will both die. And it will be a dream.
Dec 2015 · 657
Nothing
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I stare at nothing.
That space between myself and something.
Nothing is the air, the molecules, and dust.
I stare at nothing to let my brain come up with something.
Some reason to live, to sleep, to eat.
I stare at nothing.
I do not stare at something.
Dec 2015 · 1.0k
Untitled
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Is it my heart or my head
that wishes I was dead?
Dec 2015 · 343
I Am A Selfish Bitch
Christina Cox Dec 2015
If I had a genie who would grant me three wishes,
I would not wish for the betterment of the world.
     I would not wish for peace on earth.
     I would not wish for poverty to be eradicated.
     I would not wish for those who are sick or in pain to be healed.
I would be selfish.
     I would wish for my depression to be gone.
     I would wish for a body that I could handle living in.
          And if none of that worked,
     I would wish for my death to not hurt the people I love.
          That way, my suicide wouldn’t **** my parents.
Dec 2015 · 616
How to Know You Aren't Okay
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Sitting on the bathroom floor
with lights off
and doors locked.
With mirrors covered
to hide the truth
of what you are.
Dec 2015 · 372
Untitled
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The worst part of getting over something or someone
is realizing you actually haven’t.
Dec 2015 · 407
Serenity
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I search for peace everywhere I go and everywhere I look.
I search through the crunchy leaves that have fallen off the trees.
I search through the clouds that are being blown across the sky.
I search for it in the happy couples that walk by, whispering secrets about love.
I search for it in the way my brother, severely disabled, loves unconditionally.
My search for serenity is futile, I do not believe a broken heart can find peace.
Truth be told, I don’t know if a complete one can find any either.
Maybe we’re all just doomed to search for something that can never be found.
Dec 2015 · 1.4k
Ice Diving
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Throw your face into the bucket
full of ice and water.
Leave it there for predetermined times
based on physiology and psychology.
15 Seconds first, to get your lungs to work.
20 Seconds next, after getting used to holding breathe.
Try for 30 Seconds last,
that is what they tell me.
Then I go for personal bests
to make the pain even worse.
Ice Diving is a coping skill for cutting. It's a way to induce pain without really harming yourself.
Dec 2015 · 289
Nightmares
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I toss and turn for reasons
I try to understand.
My dreams are filled with boyfriends of old
and violations of the body.
Parents scurry through these dreams
I am only able to view at night.
The demons run and cause
nightmares
in this pretty sleeping head.
With teeth clenched I face the demons
and stay asleep through the night.
And yet I wake every hour
for the demons have become
too much to handle
and to move my body is to move the demons
to a different part of my mind.
So I toss and turn throughout the night
and wake to stop the dreams.
I stay awake with an aching head
with muscles tense when nightmares come.
To wake up in the morning
is to wake up in a Hell.
The made up demons of my past
affect the future of the day.
Dec 2015 · 262
Wishing on Stars
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I do not pray for I don’t know
if God is real or not.
Instead I send a prayerful wish
to the fallen stars.
They bring my wish back down to earth
with their blueish hues
and in their dust they like to say,
“My dear, you have already made
that wish today.”
This star speaks true for that I did
make my second wish a replicate
for when I wish
I try so hard to receive that which I desire.
So in the end I guess it’s true
that my prayer to a God
whom I don’t recognize
is a wish to a star that I do know.
Dec 2015 · 761
Titles
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Words are written
with rhythm and the brain.
We type and write
our thoughts and feelings
just to release a little bit of pain.
Self pain or others
it really doesn’t matter.
Words are easy with good inspiration.
The hard part is the name.
The way it works when I wrote poems.
Dec 2015 · 341
Untitled
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Grey clouds before an autumn rain
sail in my blue-eyed view.
Cold air before a winter storm
filters through my lungs.
Sitting on this felled log
lingering with the trees.
Just waiting for the shift in seasons
to change the dance from rain to flakes.
Dec 2015 · 678
My Body
Christina Cox Dec 2015
I dye my hair so I can feel
like this body I see is real.
I dye my hair so I can see
the body I see is real.

I make up my face so I can feel
like this body I wear is beautiful.
I make up my face so I can see
the body I wear is beautiful.

I wear my clothes so I can feel
like this body in the mirror is unique.
I wear my clothes so I can see
the body in the mirror is unique.

I cut my skin so I can feel
like this body I inhabit is mine.
I cut my skin so I can see
the body I inhabit **is mine.
Dec 2015 · 289
Safer Emotion
Christina Cox Dec 2015
There are times when I am happy
when I can take on the world
one ******* bug at a time.
Those times are the greatest
and the worst.
The times don’t last for long
because I don’t deserve
the happiness I feel,
the happiness I just felt.
So I break my happiness down to bits
and go back to being sad.
Dec 2015 · 3.9k
Slang Love
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Less than three denotes a heart
showing love between two teens.
Texting back and forth with words
created out of broken and squished words.
Back with “ilu,” “ilysfm,” “ily,” “ilusm.”
And forth “i<3u,” “ilym,” “ilylc,” “bilu.”
Outsiders don’t understand the slang
but they don’t know,
they do not need to.
Only the two who are in love.
Dec 2015 · 366
<3
Christina Cox Dec 2015
<3
I’ve drawn a heart upon my arm
to remind me of the love I owe
this body that I own.

I’ve drawn a heart upon my skin
to tell myself to love
this suit that I wear.

I’ve drawn a heart with silver blades
upon the skin I so detest.

I’ve drawn a heart with  ****** paint
to save the soul that lives within.
Dec 2015 · 460
What A Song Shows Me
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The music I hear
floats around my head
in shapes that show
the pain I’m in.

The sounds I frequent
are glued to my ears
while I bob up and down
in a crowd of myself.

The songs I sing
stream out my mouth
with words that say
I’m not alone.
Dec 2015 · 250
Having A Family Who Listens
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Thank you mom and dad
for not making me pray to
a God I don’t know.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Look at my body. See my body.
Do you see all the scars?

The ones from when I was a little girl
and fell off my bike,
when I picked at my chicken pox,
when I walked through home depot just a little wrong.

The ones from when I was a grown up little girl
and fell down when running in the woods,
when I picked at my pimples and scabs,
when I walked and ran into the door just a little wrong.

The ones from when I was a grown up hurt, little girl
and carved a heart into my arm,
drew a checkerboard on my thigh,
wrote words into my stomach.

Every single scar on my body tells a story.
Some are happy and playful about a little girl who liked to wear dresses.
While others are sad and depressing about a grown up girl who
felt too much pain.
Dec 2015 · 262
The Most Important Dream
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Sleep: Day. Wake/Eat: Night.
Christina: Tail, Whiskers: Cat.
Curled up, human love.
I really want to be a cat.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
At two weeks old I was blessed to be healthy, happy, and strong.
Which is actually really sweet.

At eight years old I was baptized fully underwater in a giant tub.
It sounds stranger than it was.

At eight years old I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
But why would the counsel of the Holy Ghost be a gift only given to those in this church?
And why is the name so **** long?

At twelve years old I was moved to different classes separated by gender then brought back together an hour later.
The concept and schedule of a three hour church day is quite strange.

At sixteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to not date until sixteen but only in groups.
At fifteen years old I broke the rule and found a boy to call my own.

At eighteen years old I graduated from seminary, even though I lied.
It helps when we graded ourselves.

At eighteen years old I could have followed the rule my parents and higher-ups had made to be allowed to date without being in a group.
But I broke this rule three years prior.

At twenty-one years old I could have chosen to spend two years away from school, family, friends and serve the church through a mission.
A scary thought to me but a great experience to those who are faithful.

At twenty-one years old I told my parents, “I don’t think I believe.”
**And crazily, they still love me.
I was born into the church and have just put a few experiences here. Just like any church, there are people who believe and people who do not. Please don't take this as a strict, "This is what this church is." That would not be fair.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
“**** this ******* ****,”
is my favorite saying;
****, it is simple.
Dec 2015 · 2.4k
Robbie
Christina Cox Dec 2015
The face and body of a million others
because of the 21st chromosome.
The movements and quirks of a million others
because of a little spectrum.
The testers and medication of a million others
because of a tiny chemical.
Down syndrome. Autism. Diabetes.

The most loving person I know.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
My mom is snoring,
thirteen stairs and ten feet away.
My mom is peaceful,
thirteen stairs and ten feet away.

My dad is watching,
seven stairs and fifteen feet away.
My dad is learning,
seven stairs and fifteen feet away.

I am sitting,
on the floor against a trunk.
I am crying,
on the floor agains a trunk.
Dec 2015 · 253
Picture of my Soul
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Let me show you,
let me tell you,
     about my broken soul.
Muted colors faded together,
dead flowers rising through the dirt,
with a poisonous stream running down
     the mountain I have yet to climb.
A sky of blackness,
no constellations to tell that stories
     of battles won and battles lost.
Heavy clouds touching the ground,
with ****** rain to feed the grass,
     the water to keep myself alive.
The beauty my soul once was
can be seen through the fog
     if you can create that fantasy.
Dec 2015 · 413
Violations
Christina Cox Dec 2015
Velvet words, loving words
Into her peaceful ear.
Only words he could say;
Language known to two teenagers.
Allow the words to pierce the soul
Take the words into her heart.
Ignore the warning signs
Of fake caresses.
Naked feelings he can see.
S**acrifice your body for his joy.
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