The tree is dancing and flickering Like some computer glitch, ANd the sound of fpptstops trail me, Doors shutting, Chairs scraping, Dogs barking in an otherwise empty house. I do not know how to sav myself from this Remix of unreal and reality, Just hiding blasting music Trying to drown out the sound of someone trying to **** me. The figurine of the pink power ranger rests under my pillow while I try to sleep, Guardian, protector, Save me. I do not want to listen to my thoughts. They hurt adn conjure things, Enamored of death or a way out of this hell. At night I dream Of people stealing the earrings out of mye ears And hundreds of people chanting my name. No matter where I run, they call me. Even hiding amongst the frogs brings no relief As their Ribbits shout my name from behinf the bushes. Save me from this hell, my mind. I don't want to listen to it. I don't want to die.
i take what i love about myself and wear it as a badge of honor, but at night i stare at the ceiling and list all the things i hate. i stamp it in a journal and time-date it, bookmark the page i left off on and i put the leather bound away. once a year i visit what i hate about myself and find that as long as the feelings are inked on a page and not weighing heavy on my chest, there isn’t much to hate at all.
Error 404: Higher brain function not found We are sorry to inform you, But the thought machine is out of order Please, step back and remove your quarter. We are taking your thoughts Tough Mudding They must now swim through wet cement to reach your consciousness, But fear not There are legions of them 'Worming their way through your soft tissues In between apathy and emotional volatility. What's that? You say you're going crazy? Oh, my darling, Nothing but a case of spontaneous dyslexia Words and numbers were made to be in motion, Slipping through your grasp and changing location Just a spot of fun It hurts to think To exist is to be locked in a dance of exhaustive hyperactive misery There is something wrong with my thoughts Please, I do not want to listen to myself think
Tryna brave the belly of the beast But this enemy of me Has got hands-
I’ve never metaphor for anxiety Like this one Imposter syndrome-
I was only a dark forest away from who I needed to be But feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy Are twisting clouds so forebodingly
Mara’s army fires arrows Raining streams of self-consciousness Like I wasn’t ready to self destruct on impact - detonation
I laugh and share memes of self-deprecation Social media the new god Where we worship ourselves By constantly trying to impress everyone else
Venmo me Dopamine tributes With the truth in a cave of depression and Isolation
Maybe Holly’s right And I do need to be here She shines the light On the darkness In the hospital wing 5th floor at Evanston But I’m afraid I’ve grown too codependent On this astral plane I’ve projected And romanticized these Ambien nights Only to awake neglected Screaming out her name In sleep paralysis On a dark night-
When I’m manic I try to live it out like I’m in a movie Projecting inner struggles As external conflicts To make the scene more interesting Until I’m in this final battle alone like Odysseus Lost all my friends when the monster ate our ship and I took em for granted caught up Between a rock and a hard place- Depressed and Hyper-sexualization when spring is here again
I’m in the first act dip edging the ******- Stimulating the simulation