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Writing through water
Thinking through dirt.
Brain, getting fuzzy.
really? don’t lie.
Study? I cannot.
Make me do it!
Please, make me do it..
Me, I, seeks help.
I can’t think the same,
I’m not the same.
Homework, tall brick wall,
Sports, I can do,
Essay, felt the tear,
I want to scream,
But I feel nothing.
It’s not a thing
Yet, but hopefully
Soon, I won’t fail.
But I will fall down
And never get up.
5 syllables 4 syllables. A poem I wrote while writing an essay, an essay I did not finish, an essay I wanted to cry over.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
My countenance
made love with the harsh earth
she left me
and bloodied
with a couple days
plucked out of my memory
thank whoever is above
for the few buddies
that pulled me to the
corner with a flashlight
bag of cold ice
shoulder rubs
and words of advice
I got back in the ring
ready for to resume the fight
I learned that night that
you can't beat Gaia
but that you could endure
a few rounds.

Just kidding,
I was knocked out
during the first round.
Tatiana Aug 2018
The drums' pounding sounds
echo deep in my chest
rattling my rib cage
a new heart beat is found.
I surge with the crowd
dealing with the push and pull
like it was the ocean.
Well we were on Ocean Avenue
So it sort of was.
People are being held above the surging waters
like boats floating on treacherous seas.
One boat emerges from the depths behind me
One that I did not see.
The next thing I knew
the head of the boat had hit me
connecting with the back of my head.
I turned around quickly
and pushed the boat along,
but by then the damage was already done.
I sang and danced to every song
Unaware until later of my new concussion.
I'm putting my "Forgotten Vow(el)s" series on hold as I am now concussed. I was at a punk rock concert, seeing bands such as Against Me and the Bouncing Souls. A girl was lifted up behind me, and started to fall onto me, hitting the back of my head with her head and that did it. This is my second concussion and I'm very annoyed to have gotten another one. So if you are going to punk rock shows, be aware of the risks mates. But also, go to punk rock shows because they are a blast.
Also I'm realizing now I could have said surfers instead of boats (bc crowd surfers lol), have I mentioned I'm concussed?
Also please excuse any obvious mistakes for obvious reasons.
Kendall Jul 2018
I think it’s happening again
I really hope that I’m wrong that I’m making it up that it’s all in my, head.
  I know where this road leads and it’s called depression
   From there, it’s my restriction with Ana
    I’m already freaking out. I don’t want to
     Go back down this road but it looks to be my only path
       I just feel like I’m f
                 ­                             l
                                  ­              i
                                                 ­ n
                                                     g apart.
Kendall May 2018
My outlet is gone, I feel as though I am a wounded animal that lashes out at the wrong people.
I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I cling, I cling like a leaf does in the fall waiting to change. Only to be ripped away and carried by the wind to a place I know not.
Or maybe I am the tree clingy to the leaves because once I lose them I will have nothing left.
No more leaves. No more trees.
Just a girl. Lost. Stumbling through the confusion that is life. Perpetually tired and sick of this mess I call home.
Over and over and over again this happens. Every fall the leaves are a sight to see.
But every time they leave the tree, on to bigger and better things.
TKO Aug 2016
It's been going on three years now,
It gets worse and I talk about it less.
Three years of swimming upstream
In a river of cognitive stress.

I don't recall what it's like
To feel rested after a restful night.
I don't remember not feeling high
Simply because all of the lights are too bright.

Friends presume that all is well
But it hinders me every day.
It is a dim room with stagnant air.
Grey clouds that never change.

I can't keep up anymore,
It's far too much of a strain,
Ever since the incident long ago
That bludgeoned and blunted my brain.

I trudge through every day
Shoes weighted with lead.
It feels like a dream
Because it's all in my head.
Julie Langlais Mar 2016
Jotting everything down
Lists and dates
NAMES Names names...
I know your faces
But I can't remember
Adding to my confusion
Forgetting simple things
In my daily routine
Question marks
Screen my thoughts  
What was I doing?
I ask myself
Entering a room
Where am I going with this
What was my point
Oh ya!!

Jl 2016
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
My temples pummel out
A throbbing skull
Drumming on my edges
Cracked bruises
Hidden underneath my hair
No one sees my pain
Feeling dismissed by perceived delusions
Neglect brings forth intensified loneliness
A mystery unable to solve
Potential brain damage
Resting in purgatory
Along the coastline of denial
Where I appear all right
Until another concussion
Drags me to this tide
Wanting to end my life
As I drown to the chilly depth
Wondering why my husband
Hasn't thrown me a life jacket
He tires of my imperfections
As do I….
Severity thrown under
The boat of exaggeration
No one understands my head's sensitivity
Not even me

The judgements of being weak
Of not being careful
Arguments against enjoying life
I am brought to a surplus of cries
Aching sobs swim
In my damaged head
I'm confused and lines are blurred
I'm scared and can't remember

Noises storm
Inside my ears transmitting corruption

Comatose movements
Ambushed by swelling spastic vibrations

Blinding light
Striking serrated razors between my eyes

Weighted head
Seeks detachment from its guardian

How I wish people saw this concussion for what it is

© Jl 2016
Swirls of verbiage
begin to settle.
My wish..
that they land
to connect a thought.
Overflowing as
grapes cascading atop
sides of vessel
butter cup yellow.
Fruit of the
darkest purple persuasion.

I have visions.
Ribbons of colour.
Movements of flutter
Wet paint on pallette,
waiting for a
canvas to present itself. 

Shambolic as to how to
put it all together.
Can almost sense
the fit,
yet unable to develop
the arrangement.
The words, 
the vision
the pigments are there,
on the tip of my mind.

I wonder if, in the event
it all came spilling out,
I would be brave
enough to reveal.
Begin to heal.
If my canvas of words and
colors could describe.

Maybe then, it would all melt
together, becoming the
black of all colors, the no color...
allowing me
to begin anew.


Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
This poem addresses issues
while recovering from
Traumatic Brain Injury.

My brain is scrambled
A puzzle, missing pieces...
Oh look! I found one

Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
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