Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ryan Hoysan Dec 2016
Yesterday I found an odd little place
A real hole in the wall sort of joint
Where the doldrums of life roll on and on
Where day changes to night, but leaves no one the wiser
Where today could be tomorrow even though it really seems like yesterday
When now and then are full of the same thing

It's an odd little place
A real hole in the wall joint
Just look through the looking glass
And dive down the rabbit hole
And you'll discover this world within ours.
The other night I did something I hoped I wouldn't have to do. I went to visit a very close friend of mine in the behavioral health/psych ward of the hospital. It's not that I didn't want to have to go to a place like that, it's just that I hoped I could help make it so that those closest to me wouldn't need to go there because things wouldn't get to that point. At least they're getting the help that I can't give.
Midnight and I'm finally awake in my hospital bed,
There was an accident which almost cost my life
Rushed, rush to the emergency room
A man in white cloak says "Bring another bag, replace all the loss blood in her system. "
Eyes were focused on the lightings above.
Consciousness has left the body in the hands of a stranger.
Limbs were broken but wait, there's more.
I reached for my phone to play its tunes,
Browsed chrome, and spot myself to a familiar page
Nothing fascinating, only a sentiment of a man
I read through the pages as Sam Smith sings "Lay Me Down"
Water in my eyes started to flow while the moonlight glows
Like an empty shell in the ocean, I remain still.
Days ago, I had everyone introduce themselves.
The back side of the brain was hit, but the frontal lobe was damaged badly, a contracoup.
Doctor says this won't be permanent, just a temporary amnesia.
I listened to the ramblings around, I am lost.
Attention deficit disorder makes it hard to focus
My thoughts keep on going back to the man behind those lines
Who are you?
How are we related?
I dig my mem'ries
Deeper I go each ******* day
Blank, nothing but a blank parchment
I lost it in the seven seas.
Let's try and retrieve it.
No, once gone, there's no going back.
No, don't say no.
At least let me do my best.
Such a stubborn woman.
For once, listen to what they say
You're at fault for your misery
I don't give up, I never give up.
This is just a temporary memory lost, nothing that much.
The blood started dripping again,
I stared at the stars and the moon above.
In the realm of dreams, I return.
As an old love song says **"Till the day my life is through, this I promise you. "
****, my head aches.
Kash Nov 2016
I'm ashamed because I have to be
attached to a foreign thing.
They say that it will nourish me,
this deep embedded fang.
It leaches a nutrient poison
so that I will occupy space.
A plan I so rejected
they forced the tube down through my face.
I am in treatment for anorexia.
sura Nov 2016
I don't have a medical sickness.
I just want to throw up at your face.
I just want to **** the lead out of a thermometer to poison my vital organs slowly.
I just want to crack my head open to see if it's hollow or not; to see how millions of bland thoughts made its way inside my skull.
I just want to scream at your ears
As if I'm being cauterized... Or amputated... Or flayed by a demented surgeon-
As if strapped on a rusty hospital bed,
In a grimy and abandoned hospital building...

I just want to look at my blood sample under the microscope
to make sure it's not crawling with little red demons.
I just want to throw this bowl of hot soup at your paper-gowned skin when you come to check on me...
If I'm still worth reviving,
Or if I'm still worth killing,
Or if I'm still even worth gazing at.

I just want to lie in bed all day-
Feeling like a boiled carrot;
Feeling like a wet dog drooling away under the merciless sun;
Or a creature with no bones.
Feeling like a wilted flower, lost of all its glory...

I just want to stuff my mouth with so many pills and prescriptions,
And pretend to like the idea of dying, self-induced.
I just want to sweat this fever out.

I'm so sick of myself.
A poem I made last year.
Tyranny was among laity
with grit in societal gain
a taste of luxury detained
might blast it perpetually again  
and virtually waiting in awe
made nothing of superfluous jaws
while the maker ought crack his boos
into numismatic desire
and a depository of living proof
tonight we could tract the lore.
Next page