It is a constant pressure underneath my breastbone
That whispers evil at all hours of the day
'I could rip the life from a human without remorse'
'I could bleed them out with a smile on my face'
It is an unending notion in every corner of my brain
That, had I the motivation, I would immediately claim
'I could ingest a deadly concoction and disappear in a second'
'I could enact any complicated process that ends with me slain'
It is a nightly terror that follow me through daybreak
That renders me speechless with both fear and liberation
'I could let go of control and forget about mere consequence'
'I could finally allow my brain to drown in this sensation'
Homicidal. Suicidial. Manical.
I exercise control against these urges.
Massacre. Exhaustion. Insanity.
I wonder when I will forget this.
My sister, for the first time realized I was not and am not joking. She insisted that none of the aforementioned urges are commonplace. I was not aware of how much I valued the illusion of normalcy until I was informed it was little more than a pipe dream.
24.07.07 - by Kristie Townsend
3 October 2009 at 17:36
In a darkened pit
a space in which I seem to fit
despair, fear, my escorts here
and paranoia chased hard at my rear
been given a label
a title, of which I am quite able
to stick upon my frowning forehead
whilst still wishing I was dead
irrational words spoken
secret ritual, daily self harm
like starvation and cutting my arm
plaster on that fake grin
take it all on my chin
never to surrender, never to give in
for I am merely another child borne of sin
my doctor said i'm not suicidial.
my mom said i'm being dramatic and
its all for attention.
my sister says i like my doctor.
my friends, i'm not sure what they think.
i don't think i'm okay.
i think i am suicidal,
i think this is very much true,
i do like my doctor, but not like that,
and oh dear friends, what should i do?
This Is The Real Me
how does one become a poet in a **** hole of existence
we run a muck through the give and take of sought through cadence
I'm bipolar, suicidial & psychophrenic
I've been hospitalized for an extensive stay
suffer in silence through depression deep in thought
yet in group I seek comfort for being mindful of my actions
groping my way through the enterprise
days I have panic attacks sweat episodes
this is the real me
I see two cats at the edge of my bed that aren't there
see the eye of the Alan Parsons project on my door
I'm manic one moment and bipolar the next
take a good **** that I scream inside for help
I'm in classes seeking help for my depression
was denied social security three times
what the **** am I here for
for I exist as a vapor then I am no more
lingering, unfolding & loving
I have a good heart
yet I wear a pamper do to falling **** that comes out my stead
I'm wrapped up with emotions
yet I'm continuing to play on the one guitar string I'm being dealt.
haven't worked since 2015
living off of my mother's help for now
I'm telling you the truth this time no sugar coating it.
— The End —