Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sometimes, I'm walking with Jinns in my head;
I hear clear things that haven't even been said,
I see ideas that yet nobody has had.

Sometimes, I'm walking with Jinns in my head;
I bear the colour before people see it as red,
I feel by what people have been led.

Sometimes, I'm walking with Jinns in my head;
I steer my steps as the thoughts have me led,
I peer the ways that they said.

Sometimes, I'm walking with Jinns in my head;
Sometimes, I feel they have made me grad,
Sometimes, I fear they make me bad.

Sometimes, I'm walking with Jinns in my head;
For understanding, sometimes, I'm so glad,
But sometimes, I'm just sad and mad.
Trout Sep 2
When my poor head is wet, grandma is ***
Tacit engagement stractics
Crisping over the plains

I’m no scented mentalist.
Scream and slide

Where did
It go
It is impossible
The fan
He makes
Too many good points

I have a visitor with a golden eye
Standing in the street
Open to anything
Such as:
Drifting white on the millsap sockways

Tempted by the crew of another

Oh so you’re the seventh advanced skeleton now?

There’s a buidle
Dancing around with the same colored eagle

Take it off
With a chance
To the world

a) white inside
b) dead inside

You look like you should be short but when you stand up you are going to be really tall. I am the opposite.
Lose the grass in your bones and be here tomorrow
Vandal vandal candle future
Trout Sep 1
My adolescent paparazzis just all come and say
To counter the spink and magic music is a getaway
My view is a heathen
The club is alive and all
The funniest vision
Where trumpeters play such a song
My feet are cold
What should I do
My essence body is calling you

No forgiving
The underworld is for the hide-and-seek
Try, try, traitor
For the one who doesn’t write a song
Lose, lose, winner
The harp of luna can’t be traded off
Go to dinner
Driving out and sing a different song

Come a bit later
Trying to see
A picture of boys that soothe and cancer and see lots of taxidermy
The tie and newspaper
My amusement is great
The poison capital diamond
Tied to what’s on

Dripping harmonies and symptoms
Grabbing tools and violins
Thumping banners of all wisdom
Grabbing children funny kids
The pincher grabs a thunder
I would like to have fun in a perilous game
The sun is raging backwards
My understatement
The best of Mormon boys
I'd never tried ****
Or alcohol
Or Coffee

I was raised to live a
Word of Wisdom that
Forbids it and
I obeyed

But suicide crept in
Too many times to
Afford not to
Try new things

My therapist convinced
Me to try two things
New: Sativa,

Sativa to help me
Process from novel
States of mind that
I might see

Indica to bring me
Back into the corpse
I had left back
In my grave

Cannabis, I was told
By my therapist
-Who looked just like
An angel-

Was a sacred plant that
Was used for decades
Centuries or
Much longer

Grown straight from out the Earth
She told me that They
Wouldn't cure me
Nothing could...

Cure me but me, but still
They were powerful tools
For healing change
When used right

She believed they could help
Aide my recovery
Help me, fix me
So I tried

I turned my back on my past
Mormon ways and
Opened a door
I can't go

Back through ever again!
Over the last year that
I've used this

We've grown intertwined
Like a vine that grew
Through my nervous
System slow

But surely becoming
A part of who I
Am like part plant
Part human

She took the role of Mother
A mother I wanted
But never had,
Not since twelve

And even when I moved
Back home to Utah
From Colorado
I can't quit

I love Her too much now
When I can't sleep She
Sings lullabies
In the dark

When nightmares from my past
Come find me She will
Whisper sweet words
Of nothing

But they make me feel loved,
Make me feel lovable
In ways I never
Knew before

Not once in my old life
Of Twenty-eight years
Struggling with my

I felt cannabis' love
For me my first hit
She adopted
Me and I

| Can't Quit Now |
Thank you
I could say when it started; I could feign confidence in this place, in the hour. The truth is, I could sail on the rolling tides of time and I'd still yet never move in a straight line. That's how it's always been - like a clock that lags a split second longer on even numbers, and pauses to scrutinize the odd. Like standing in a crowd, waving to a friend you don't remember meeting. Reading words that make no sense to anyone but their writer, or knowing those words are your own; my own. Words where meaning has been lost, a dying light I never got the chance to experience. One day, I will experience it.
And to speak of glacial pace; a moment to rest, but unsparing to change.
I have yet to leave, so I'll stay.
Everyone says I have trauma,
But they don’t know a thing.
I always thought I didn’t do things by halves,
But I only do the last end of suffering.

There is no trauma there,
Should I hate to disappoint you?
(I don’t.)
Everyone thinks I have trauma.

And when I feel strong,
Is it ever good enough,
Or too much, too healthy?
Must I be faking,
Or am I just dissociating?
Everyone believes I have trauma.

There is no trauma back there.
Azurai Jul 26
I seem to always be in a constant state of fight or flight.
The worst part is that there's no one to fight,
and nowhere to fly to,
because the enemy is Me.
My own thoughts, my demons, they cling to me.
like parasites.
Feeding off of my soul,
day in and day out until I am nothing but a husk.
The only way to escape the torment even for a moment
is to
from the present,
to float somewhere between this reality
and the one that the devil on my shoulder
tries to convince me is true.

But there's always still a part of me that holds on down below, in the present, in the real world, so that I can reel myself back in again. So I don't completely drift away like a kite slipping through a child's grasp on a windy day. Drifting on an updraft, whirling and twirling upwards and into the clouds..


       Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

            Maybe next time, I'll just let go of the string.
nellie Jul 14
There comes a time
Where you wake up
And see
Whats reality
And whats a dream
And you feel The Glass Wall
Beneath your fingertips
Completely surrounded
Searching for a way out,
a crack in the wall.
But Darling,
The Glass Wall
Only lies within yourself

the first parts of bohemian rhapsody basically,,,
rewrote an old poem of when i was constantly dissociating
Day Jul 7
How am I supposed to plan a future?
When, I don't even know
who the **** I am today.
Next page