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Star Eyes Mar 2019
There was a short moment, the other day
My work had ended- free and lone, I played
The strings vibrated in the plastic air
Sudden, my mind posed a question: "Do we care?"

I looked down and observed some flesh and bone
But it did not register as my own
Shapes swirled around me; no meaning attached
I glanced about, but felt as if detached

'My' room, 'my' song, 'my' life; they were just shapes
An absent sense of dread with no escape
The world ground on, but I, the husk, was still
There's nothing here, so I say come what will-

A voice of reason, hiding in my soul
Reached out to make the husk and the heart whole
Blinking, 'I' returned back to my pain
The thoughts once dispatched, now attached again
there was this moment the oher day where I was playing my guitar and then I looked at my hands, but they weren't my hands. Just... shapes. Holding more shapes.
I don't know how to describe it other than the normal human meanings we attach to things just... weren't there. It wasn't my room. It wasn't a room. It was just shapes. I don't know how else to describe it.
It didn't last long- somehow, I ****** myself out of it... but the feeling still hangs there in the back of my mind.
Pagan Paul Feb 2019
I have one hand on the handle of the mad sane door,
the other is scraping shards on the missing floor,
my mind dissolves away into a hurricane squall,
and my face is the mirror on a stark naked wall.

My life is a fluid flowing through images weird,
dripping through the cracks, tactile and veneered,
pouring dark thoughts into a head once cleared,
the door whispers promises of nothing to be feared.

© Pagan Paul (14/12/17)
blake Jan 2019
breathe. in. out.
what do you see?
computer-ruler-pen-calculator. sticky note. sticky note.
bag. chair.
what else do you see?
i don't know.
where are you?
does it matter?
who are you?
i forgot.
what are you?
ravyn Dec 2018
its quiet,
except for the humming of the
lights and
the electronics plugged in for
my convenience

of course,
everything is here for my
convenience, Right?
who else
would it be for
if there was anyone
else but me

of course,
im still polite
even if there isnt
anyone else to annoy
im still civilized

(what is civilized? if
im the only one?
am i the civilization? i
dont think
thats the
definition. organism?)

i cant hear anyone else
or see anyone else
i could be anyone else
but who exists to prove myself to?

a tv is playing softly behind me
i turn to it
its a relic of times past
that people were
once here
and thriving

my phone pings,
startling me

dont forget the milk
Dead Monika Dec 2018
My friends know far less than they think they know.
I'm not good at lying - not at all.

"I was working" "I was at a driving lesson" "I was in the SU"

It isn't lying if I believe it.
I think it's the disassociation
That when the cuts that decorate my thighs split open and I find myself in the bathroom for hours trying to cover them up

I really do believe I am somewhere else

Somewhere where perhaps, I'm normal - surrounded by people who love me and we can laugh and laugh and laugh and cry together.

My friends, bless them are both a treasure and a curse.
A curse because they aren't really my friends
only friends of the persona I have constructed

they wouldn't like the real me
she is no fun to be around - more dead than alive

A treasure because they give me a reason to open my mouth each day
Give me a reason to think

When I would much much rather cease to exist
Bansi Adroja Dec 2018
It's odd how much people change
old friends from childhood
feel like strangers
and you wonder
whatever happened to them

I have changed too
detached from myself in a way
it's almost uncomfortable
not feeling like me
like a dreamscape
it is almost somewhere safe
A Poem a Day: Disassociation 101
nom de plume Nov 2018
Alienate my body and mind,
commodify my core;
Is my existence
a means to a profit?
The 21st century's commercial *****.

My labor is not mine,
my art is not mine;
Everything I create
liscensed and taken,
another addition to a capitalist's shrine.

I understand the poached animal:
Ripped apart,
skin and teeth hung for all to see,
and then, admired for its beauty.
Chloe V Selover Oct 2018
Who is this girl I see below me who holds this far off stare
She holds no concern for me as I dance through the air

I live in a world of colors far away from pain
I'm not the girl that is constantly trapped inside her own brain

I wander far away in floating fields of cotton
The agony and my blade are long ago forgotten

There is a tugging at my core and I know it's almost time
Her cries pull me back and into her skin I climb.
Anya Oct 2018
It's the start of the school
year and everyone's
milling about

Water particles
Milling about
and breaking
hydrogen bonds

There's a group of
new kids,
awkwardly standing
off to the side

A large crystal
of salt
is dumped among

Some of the old kids
start milling
over pulling
new kids
their friend

The water starts
bonding with
ions of salt
positive with negative
negative with positive
pulling them
to form

Eventually all the
new kids are
incorporated into
friend groups

The lattice of salt
is broken apart
And all the individual ions
are surrounded
Known as H2O
If you find quirky analogies to science interesting check out my collection "science poems".
kerri Sep 2018
Still, I don’t feel in control sometimes.
My brain is just on auto pilot while the real me resides somewhere


d e e p

d  e  e  p

Just like that one episode of Spongebob where he only knew fine dining and breathing.
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