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Jon Thenes Oct 10
I retain, fixed
a point
until corroded by metological formula
and practical social delinquency

Weather me down
til I am camera
and pinhole

Pure and abyss-less
lights vehicle
                         - forget me not
I self plagiarised a little in this... Such is life.
          I am
Furious soul.

             with You,
I Mayhem.
Troy Sep 24
The Voices the Voices
They won't shut up
Screaming and shouting
Banging on the walls

Distortion of vision
Clouded with racing thoughts
Blurry eyed he walks
Straight into a trap

He starts to shout
Everything the voices say
To which some are good
But others are truly insane

Hammer down inside his head
For when the voices awake
Terror fills his heart
Gnawing at any shred of hope

Though when the voices are silent
Calm waves flow gently
In the mind of whom
Is slightly crazy
Okay I have a confession to make. I am diagnosed with DID, Dissociative identity disorder. I have about 7 or 8 different personalities, or Alters if you will, and they help me write the poems that I bring you.
I hope you all enjoy our words of magical mystery.
As the night nurse
let me into the ward
the noise hit me
like something
from ****.

He closed the door
behind me
and I wandered
further into the ward.

A group
of the mentally insane
surrounded me
wanting to shake my hand
to touch me
yelling various greetings
as I walk past them
to the nurse's office.

The male nurse
gruffly told them
to shove off
and they disbursed
out of sight.

Got to keep them
in order
he said
gathering his things.

As long as you
are here I can go
he said.

He left and the door
shut behind him.

One by one
the patients came
to the door and stared
and smiled
or grinned weirdly.

I spoke to them
and walked around the ward
one or two followed me
down the passageway
as I walked past dormitories
with unmade beds
and the smell of *****
and bodies.

One of the patients
touched my sleeve

We make the beds
he said
me and Gough.

He followed me
back to the ward
muttering news
of this and that
and in his eyes
saw emptiness
and vacant spaces
and sighed seeing
that in many
of their faces.
I’m sorry I’m sorry
I said, Stepping in
The mental hospital
I’m not right in the head

I’ve been constantly slicing
Cutting through skin
To escape myself
To survive my ****

I wish to see your face
when they finally let me free.
I wish you would write
or call me just once

But for now, just visions of you
While I’m drowning
In my own crimson blood
Searching for the key
To this mental prison

The nurse walks away
After haven given
Me some medication
Something to calm me

The straight jacket now
Holding me firm
They put me down
I Sit there an empty stare
They filled me up with drugs
keeping my head in narcotic haze.
Pill after pill all day, every day
I am broken and defeated

Sitting here in a mental home.
Its been a few days inside now, i'm finally allowed some time to write and use the computer. Its cold in here, its lonely and they are constantly watching The screams at night are the worst.
In the arms dare do find where she fall
A heart born red, boiling with a burn of Solaris
Carry a fire as Olympic as time
And admit to her, the metaphor
You do not know
Nor do I
A feeling described, burned into fabled try
Scare as it do unto us
And bring fear in what flames tell
Where focus meet dimension
The condescension meet the unending mention
Of you
My mantra that scribble itself across walls of peeling fossil
Hallucinate timeless clippings of ill
Speak to the walls to translate what I spell is true
a refugee cloud,
sought asylum on a tree;
driven far, dissolved!
I am trapped in a straitjacket
Unable to move
I may as well be in a casket

Trying to remember how I got here
Everything is so unclear
I am blindfolded and everything starts to disappear

Out of control
Out of my mind
Out of a soul

I fight against the sleeves
Thrashing, resisting
Trying so hard to leave

Doctors whispering reassuringly
But the words don't reach me
No matter how kindly

In an asylum you don't pay rent
Because you are a ***** against your will
Held there just for thinking something different

Not a single letter
No one wants to talk to the insane
No one even thinks you'll ever get better

Then you lose hope in your own recovery
No one else believes it, why should you?
You forget what it is to even be free.


This straitjacket gets no easier to bear
I pull and pull
But it gets no better to wear
Amy Krencius May 19
I am the fearful that wanders these halls;
This wakening nightmare enslaves and enthralls.
I am the lost, here I wander alone;
My realm built of terror, into the unknown.

You were my dearest, most trusted of friend;
The one that has been and shall be to the end.
You were all that I knew (all I could see);
Within this refuge, it was just you and me.

I am the desolate, broken and lost;
I've paid for my sins, and so high was the cost.
I am chaos lying dormant within;
Come, let me show you, lest you leave me again…

You fell away, slipped away, coldly left me to drown;
Abandoned at the gates of this void that surrounds.
Fierce demons have woken, they lurk all around;
As they rise, still I fall, and this world tears me down.

Mine is this fear, it is all that I know;
This dread, it consumes me, I've no place to go.
Mine is this sorrow that burdens my soul;
This wreckage inside, I am no longer whole.

You were the truth I had known from the start;
This monster (my monster) buried deep in my heart.
Forever the nightmare, hidden in shame;
This destruction is mine, this **** I have made...
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