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voodoo Oct 8
I'm here once more, but then again when was I not?

as if my eyes have ever shifted from my reflection. I'm sick of it.

I don't know how long I've been here; this dimly lit trap gives away no time.

all else melts around me, pools into ripples of my distorted reality.

I sit and I watch my face. I long for the familiarity of yesteryears that I cannot trace.

my skin yawns open, wills to consume itself - porous, velutinous, and brittle.

this is who I am, this is what I see:

tyrian purple flesh decomposing, falling inside my bones that split and splinter;

my mind climbing out of my head, fugitive from the skull's prison;

breaths, ribbons of grotesque, not deep enough to last and not shallow enough to be numbered.

everything without is human (decaying though it is), and everything within is dissimulation.

this molten, fragmented un-being doesn't escape my sight. these eyes have cried out for respite -

and yet they exist, the odd and sole constant in the mirror before them -

wistful for oblivion and feasting on fear. what's gone has kept me alive for longer than it appears.

this body doesn't even feel real. my fingertips burn at every touch.

what more shrapnel does this heart desire until it plays out its final beat?
Bard Sep 28
It began on a Despairing Night:
I was the most Depressed Laborer around,
He was the most Fake Delusion.

He was my Friend,
My Fake Friend,
My Delusion.

We used to Sleep so well together,
Back then.
We wanted to Die together,
We wanted it all to end.

But one Night, one Despairing Night,
We decided to Lie too much.
Together we Chased Death.
It was Pathetic, so Pathetic.

From that moment our relationship changed.
He grew so Lonely.

And then it happened:

He Lived Life.
My Friend Lived Life.

The next day I thought my mind had broken,
I thought my Life had burst into flames,

But still, He is in my thoughts.
I think about how it all changed that Night,
That Despairing  Night.

When I think of that Fake Delusion,
That Fake Delusion and me.
Something different
Kenji Aug 28
I woke up, in hospital, the visions and dreams I had were scary.
Some were real, some were not.
I thought the dream of actually being in hospital was a nightmare.
Then I realized, the suicide attempt didn't work.
I vomited everything out, but some of it is still in my system, making me very drowsy, this isn't a poem, it's a confession.
I attempted to **** myself, but it wasn't the right time.
I have faint memories of what happened.
Most of them were scary as I was drugged on the medication, seeing delusions that weren't real.
I won't do it again, I learnt my lesson.
My mom brought me home, to keep an eye on me and give me direction, I'm doing well, yet, still very drowsy and nauseous.
She flew all the way down to see me in hospital, I was in ICU for 3 days.
I almost died, if I closed my eyes before the ambulance came, I would've.
That was the point, but, it was all an illusion.
Never overdose on your prescribed bipolar meds.
Never overdose on anything.
Never attempt suicide
Ormond Aug 3
Settled in days of wine without rose
And forever nows we trudged along,
Making our way to the ordinary
Greeting of the always new.
For we always knew, our time
Together was but a means,
Of make believes and almost
Alrights, a travelogue to nos
In destinations of plain, we spoke
To each other as if then never was,
We drank coffee in meeting places,
Where grown ups frequent as they
Barter to themselves, in cursory
Smiles and similes unsaid, for they,
As us, knew that no future would arrive                                                
As we numbered to each in numbness
Searching for one breakaway day,
Seeking to blind ourselves looking
For what was already, maybe there.
How timeless is a child in fantasy?
What play dates we revel in,
With others we do not know?
This is a song we played, we played
At being joined, as if our lives
Depended on it.
Damaris Jul 16
I’m just an angel... falling down to reality.
A reality that isn’t even real.
Ormond Jul 6
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'

Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'

Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                            
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,

Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'

Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
King Lear is a tragedy by William Shakespeare in which the titular character descends into madness after disposing of his estate between two of his three daughters based on their flattery, bringing tragic consequences for all. Based on the legend of Leir of Britain, a mythological pre-Roman Celtic king.
And if the scars of heartbreak create a mosaic of your face.

Using binds that can't break if delusions can't shatter.

I'll look at it in the mirror, I'll note how its the only colour on my drained fragmented being.

And, I'll still see it as a masterpiece, art, beautiful.

A face that from me draws a love that knows no bounds.
SMS Jun 21
I told myself I was different
I didn’t excessively bleed
No one could see anything
I was doing just fine.
To me cutting became expected.
For others it wasn’t okay, but for me?
Just a daily routine
As normal as brushing my teeth.
Kora Sani Jun 20
i thought
i was
but it was
just the world
around me
Cat Lynn Jun 16
The "I" in Pride
Should fade and die
For what pride is there?
When I have my flag that I like to hide?

Ripped and torn from rainbow fusions
Mixed up in teenage emotional confusion
There is no "I" when it's a delusion
My past once apart of the movement

Pride will only cause the "I" fall
Into a mind set I thought I would never recall
Stand proud? Why? It's against His Law
This "I" can't stand in pride. I'm kneeling down instead of standing tall
As a Christian I have my own conviction and struggles. To each his own to what they do and choose for their life. God gave us free will. So if this doesn't apply to you then that's okay! But for me... It is a struggle  That annoys my brain... when it is no longer who I am. So now I'm fighting to remember that God has indeed created amazing Godly men.

If you are ***, please know that this is nothing against you. This is not  a hate poem to you. This is just a struggle heart ache poem that I deal with. I believe the bible is truth and what it says is right. but everyone has a choice...
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