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elle jaxsun May 7
i already miss flying
high above myself,
unaware of every ****
i should be giving.

i plant flowers in my
wounds instead,
fully aware—I feel them
grow from me
& bloom.

painful, beautiful.

and so powerful.

I used to find power in
deflecting
neglecting
rejecting &
subjecting myself.

healing is hurting.
healing is hurting.

hurt people hurt people.
but healed people heal people.
and maybe sometimes they’re the same person.
05/04/2021
eden Dec 2020
i do not think
i am in my body
no, i know
for a fact i am not

i have been away
far off in some
other space
some other place
there's roses on the floor
but they are all withered
and the red that
once looked like blood
has turned to
a dull sun

the glow from this
distance is not
beautiful
it is sickening

maybe i went too far
outer space took me away
up up up
higher and higher
on the moon

all alone here
you're talking to me
but i don't know who
it is you speak to
anymore

because i am no longer
on the earth
i have not had my feet
planted firmly on
the ground in a long time

the sky races by
and the weeks
go so fast now
i am living months and months
in the past

stuck, or maybe just gone
its too odd
to explain to you

so i will simply say
i am away
mark soltero Sep 2020
what id give to sell my soul
to feel hollow
i want to achieve artificial existence
deepening desires
to feel nothing
opulent and distant
I disassociate to my "friends" lives scrolling by,
I don't need any spliff or fungus to reach
Peak apathetic  non self congruence.
Watching years pass by in seconds
Is all the psychedelic room temperature
Mental priming for my primate mental
That I could ever hope for

Before being snapped back out
By the cubed carrot reward of
Internet interaction
Which keeps me salivating and searching
For ways to increase the amount of time
I don't have to associate with that guy inhabiting my body
For a while I can see my problems as goners
Being slowly erased from my mind like a magnet over a hard drive

Until a kindly panic attack reminds my of
My lack of lack of control
And the selfless self centered guilt keeps me
Wishing I were working instead of living
Who could be so audacious
As to propose a life out side
Day Apr 2019
Eyes open
Phones broken
Alarms on
Cars warm
Show up
Clock in
Do my work
Get paid
Clock out
Drive home
Feel drained
Close my eyes
Can't express
How I feel
Do I feel?
Sigh
Breathe in
Breathe out
Sleep
blake Jan 2019
breathe. in. out.
what do you see?
computer-ruler-pen-calculator. sticky note. sticky note.
desk.
bag. chair.
what else do you see?
person-person--person---person----person.
who?
i don't know.
where are you?
does it matter?
who are you?
i forgot.
what are you?
disassociating.
Vanessa Grace Apr 2018
I'm so nostalgic these days
and I know you've heard that all before
the whole "I'm listening to old songs on repeat
and re-reading the broken stories I keep
to find myself again" thing—but hear me out.
No, this time I really mean it
Nostalgia is not a dark cloud lingering above my head
but a thunderstorm rumbling below my feet
and every moment of every day I'm tumbling through it
and trying to pretend I don't see concrete
hurdling towards me
like it has some twisted sense of vengeance,
some sort of hunger for my life.
And occasionally perhaps I can forget how broken I feel, and be content with what this is.
But this is a small life and it's an even smaller smile
when laughing at your jokes but turning up a noise-dial
in my head
so that I don't have to hear myself think
let alone breathe
over the chatter about how unremarkable I've become.

There's no sanctity to my mind,
no peace in my heart,
and no rest for my spirit.

So I'm nostalgic,
and yes, I mean it.
I'm listening to old songs on repeat.
Combing through ancient poems and pictures;
staring at a face that once upon a time, shared my likeness—
but now she mirrors my demons.
v.g

Sometimes I read this and it makes sense. Sometimes I read this and it's nowhere truthful enough.
amber Apr 2018
disassociating *******
consciousness, far from here
lost amongst the clouds in the sky
as I come down, they follow me
fog lays softly upon the ground I walk on
Today my world opened up on all ends and all the different dimensions fell in on themselves.

Today I discovered what it means to be space, to exist in the realm of reality beyond my past and present.

I followed the imprint of echoes and got lost as the sirens swallowed me whole.

Today, I was a monster, peeking through holes left by stars into the realities I wish would disappear.

Today, I trickled into the atmosphere, wasted on broken glass and the blood from my throat.

Today my mask fell off and I was forced to see.

All the atoms split so far from each other I could hear the silence between reality and God.

Tomorrow I'll try to be better.
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