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It just so happens for me and you,
To live in the same universe I'm not sure we belong to.
Life's a blessing they all kept saying
In reality my heart kept praying.

The light in me is flickering,
While your presence's only triggering,
Confusion, fear, distress and anger,
Feelings two people in the same universe can't handle.

And I keep wanting to make a change
But it just so happens to make it all more strange,
Almost like a long lost curse
Spelled upon two people in the same universe.
There's something...
infinitely beautiful,
dancing, delicately,
on pulled threads,
across nimble fingers:

the cat's cradle,
between emotional agony,
and mental silence.  

When every tear, is at last, exhausted...
when your lungs, wheeze, fluidly,
from helpless overexertion,
and, gasping for breath,
you turn your cheek, for air,
your pillow:
now, a man-made lake...

the numbness... suffuses,
your entire being.

Loud suffering, falls silent.
Red-rimmed eyes,
become too swollen,
to examine their own pain.

The nothingness blankets you,
in its warmest embrace.
You become swaddled; baby-soft, again,
yet plated, in auric detachment.

...Nothing, can touch me,
nothing,
can inform, my placid heart,
to beat.

in this moment,
I am free, of its emotional trappings.
its threads, can't pin me;
its pull, can't drag me down.

My lips,
shape a smile,
but it only serves, to show...
that it no longer hurts,
to stretch a wooden bridge,
across the gaping void.

...but even so... it's just a band-aid.

It won't fix, what's broken,
and the blood,
will seep through,
the gauze, again.
The pain, will return;
it'll grow knuckles,
that form fists,
which wield knives.

But, for now...
I lay myself, to rest...
blunted, mummified,
in a buzzing swathe,
of pristine, white.........





silence
...I have BPD, (C)PTSD, and who knows, whatever the **** else.

There are these moments, where, the emotion intensifies to the point I can't bear it, and just when I think it's finally going to **** me, it finally breaks, and I feel a beautiful kind of...nothingness.

...I try to hold onto these periods of numbness, for as long as I can.

...The title, I was just trying to be cute, with.

It's easy to disregard this experience as oversensitivity or weakness, but BPD is widely regarded as one of, if not the most, painful mental illnesses, to live with. I can't stop people from thinking what they want to about this piece, but I've been thinking a lot lately about my patterns, and cycles, and maybe it's worth sharing, maybe other people relate? Idk.
A feeling of uselessness
A feeling of worthlessness
A sense of unease
A deep fear of the unknown

A deep and complicated feeling of distress
A longing for something more, something real
The need to protect that makes us truly human
Desiring a deep connection with a lover
A promise never fulfilled and a love that's over
The burning condition,
Burnout of though.
To dream to be,
Impossible for sickly roe.
The rot of being,
The not of doing.
Anxiety, tempting it covers,
A blanket of roughness.
A coffin of distress.
I will bring blackness,
Though empty it may be.
I bring the darkness,
I bring comfort.
ViP Mar 21
There once was a girl
Whose face said it all
Tears streaming down her face
She no longer carries herself with grace
Could it be heartbreak?
A bad day at work?
Perhaps that’s all that there is
A mix of pain with deep longing
For someone or something
But who and what?
Curiosity spurred on inside of me
And I decided to act
Either now or never

Sitting next to this girl now
My eyes instantly lock with hers
I silently mutter to her,
“What happened?”
But all I hear is silence
The kind of silence
That sends shivers down your spine
And I can’t help but feel it
In the deepest parts of my soul
So much so,
That I see my reflection in her eyes
When I felt scared and lonely
Waiting for someone to save me
But not this time, no

At last, I put my hand on hers
Speaking out from under my breath
With the words
“Everything will be okay”
And that’s all she needed to hear
To become like herself again
KarmaPolice Jan 28
His senses hold him prisoner,  
Overwhelmed and alone.  
The walls are his burden;  
The light, too much to bear.  

The soaked linen of yesterday’s news,  
Stained with fear from battles before—  
An old uniform hangs alone,  
Boots polished beside paper awards.  

Headlights cast broken shadows,  
Each a spectre of the past.  
Empty scotch bottles and cigarette burns  
Mark a slow crawl to solitude.  

Light burns through a slither 
His heart beats through the walls.  
Strangled by the sirens  
That triggered him before.  

He needs to be cradled,  
Yet no hand reaches for him.  
He sways back and forth,  
A pendulum of grief.  

Screams, muted by paralysis;  
Silence pervades the void.  
Fractured by a rasping breath  
And a crescendo of emotions.  

The warning bells pass—  
They did not come for him.  
His fragile breath of sorrow  
Whispers to an empty room.  

By Darren Wall ©
I previously published this under Sirens (Alternative), but I wanted to try and grab the readers attention better.
G Vermeulen Aug 2024
The process of loving
It hurts to my bones
And I try to toughen
Though it all feels like traffic cones

Those cones I place down
Attempt sticking to one path
A road leading to a town
Where love doesn’t have as many rules as math

I don’t need love
Is what I heard from a friend
But it sounded so rough
Since I see love as a godsend

And I know it is a constant pain
Watering a dying crop
With my efforts in vain
So why don’t I stop

Stop nurturing that flame
Banish out that feeling
Switch to a different lane
Maybe start healing

But I cannot heal without love
I’d miss the ecstatics
Life would be so tough
Empty like an essay without its appendix
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2024
~
she's thunderstorms.
she's asphodel meadows.

I fall outside of her
into the suburbs of askew,
where she hides behind
happy occident, where she
lives with the afterlife of a man,
but is in love with a scientist.

a jaded thing, she likes
to drop anvils on her
husband's head and blame
her fragile scaffolding,
she wears the wreckage
on her face, it's far easier
than admit her own fallacies.

before the children came along
she was able to pour some
of her own frustrations
into these knotty tussles.

now the midwives have left.
now misadventures in her
own backyard commence.

no hiding place down
the front of her,
the remaining secrets
come from underneath.

but if you trust her
and go along, she knows exactly
where to lay her hands.

~
Jeremy Betts Mar 2024
Life can seem like a nightmare
I'm afraid of all of the time
I release my flair in the night air
Noticing all the fear is of the same kind
I more than recognize the familiar glare
The eyes looking back at me are mine
Aware that I'm unaware
Fair or not,
Witness my paradigm

©2024
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