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Bowedbranches Jun 18
Channel 2

Nightly News

Who even knows anymore?


The clink of dishes


Disarray


Discussions a-bout dynamite


Likely to tear my hair out


It's fair to say I'd scare


my younger self


Wouldn't recognize,


or even know how to reply


to the sight of things


Paranoia creepin' in


Might have to do with,


all that research I been readin'


Either tricks are being played


Or something is amiss
in the way you treat me...
Can you hear them voices?
That only i can hear?
Whispering Warnings,
Feeling My soul up with fear.

It's hard to be lonely,
When you can hear,
Its like they are roaring,
In my ears.

I'm tired of them coming,
Oh how they just appear,
Mumblings emerging,
They will never disappear.

They act like they know me,
I try to flee,
Wanting to destroy me,
Their all i see..

Wouldn't wish this on Nobody,
Them spying on me.
My brain is lying,
Is this real or a dream?
Schizophrenia *****
jǫrð Nov 2023
Awake into the night
Paralysed before sleep took hold
Suffocated by my worries
As some stranger had foretold
Awake into the night
I dreamt of coffins and stars
Hopeful for a soft future
One that died out young
Awake into the night
I felt him lingering near
Tickling my occipital lobe
Reminding me for the first time, ever
I'm never really alone
The History: I was little once, with a lot of big dreams and sleep paralysis
VanillinVillain Dec 2022
As alone I walk these emptied streets
the only rhythms heart and feet
I all around am sure I see
myself amidst the trees.
But no it cannot be, says me,
I am no scarecrowed bag of bones
whose clothes hang slack
and innards seep with leaves.
I am a man, methinks I say,
a human living breathing man
with no such predilections wrought
for suicidal sentiment.
It cannot is not mustn’t be me,
that body hanging limp in-tree,
that bullet ridden slumping form,
that sorry teenage lover-boy.
~5/12/21, written for a creative writing course
birdy Jun 2022
Mellifluous red noises
flow out from a violin like arm
with a bow of steel
and a song of death
birdy Apr 2022
Hands travelling over me,
I'm scared, holding back tears.
My heart pounds trying to fight back, but I'm paralyzed unable to protect myself.
And he holds me as if I were his to adore.

Now I wonder if I can ever be held again.
Io Apr 2022
figures in the tree line
make me shiver
eyes from the treetops,
faces in the river
silhouettes of men
wallowed in the shallows
leading me to the gallows
whispers from the shadows
The tendency to see meaningful patterns in meaningless information
Moon Wright Nov 2021
my family believes
in demons and angels and spirits
but not mental illness

they think that seeing Shadow People
are a religious thing
and is something to be prayed about

but when I complain
about my delusions and hallucinations
they call me crazy and say
that I'm making things up

everything has to do with religion
in this **** house
and everything bad
is something to be prayed away

a made-up construct by humans
is more believable in my family
than realist illnesses of the brain

i'm tired of it
I'm sick and tired of this ****
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
I saw butterflies,
perch,
on my toes,
last night.
They fluttered down,
from the ceiling,
calling my sole,
their home.
Onyx wings,
somehow sparkle,
in the late,
early hours,
of dawn.
I ponder,
will they,
carry me,
to my end,
this time?
Only wishes,
and the anxiety,
of being lost,
again,
this time.
I dream,
of freedom,
from reality.
It’s mocking my,
illusions,
birthing them into,
hallucinations.
My brain,
broken,
haphazardly,
glueing,
the pieces,
together.
Lost,
I’m drowning,
forgotten,
I should be,
flying.
Recently I’ve been sick, I’ve been having seizures, hallucinations. Unfortunately we haven’t figured out what is wrong with me, it’s neurological. I start medicine today so I may disappear for a while, but this poem is the closest I can get to expressing me again. I hope you enjoy.
Banele Msimango Jul 2021
The dream so vague yet vividly
Reoccurring untill in focus.
And there you are
Your face
Your shades
Your smile
and you spoke.
The sound of your voice, nautical across my spine
Quelling the day's toils in my mind.

But now acutely awake
still wanting to be hear your voice
still wanting to see your enchanting beauty.
It's a shame hands of a dreamer grasps only air.
To the lover who never was
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