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Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
The music of insanity
plays its song inside of me
The snare does snap and
The crashes crash
Inside the mind of me
The hi hat goes tss tss
And the ride says ting ting
Inside the mind of me
The tom drums role
And bass drum booms
Inside the mind of me

Inside of my chaotic mind they ring
With the hateful opposite of silence
The music of insanity does sing

If you ever ask if I am mad I will
Surely hear ding ding ding!
Just a poem about feeling like I'm going nuts and all the crazy stuff going on in my head all the time.
Norman Crane Oct 2020
Let's lose our minds amongst the olive trees
Labyrinth of oiled imagination
Twirl like falling leaves / falling to our knees
in unbalanced joy and veneration
of ourselves. For there is nobody else
but us; there is no other time but now,
Red flowers bloom. A blue shadow propels
a still landscape into being somehow
fluid. Timelessly we swim, wet within
each brush stroke branch and painted wave of wild
emancipation—to forget the din
of the wretched asylum. Vincent smiled:
Dive too deep and you shall go insane,
The olive grove remains the other side of the pane.
Inspired by Vincent van Gogh's painting of the same name.
Saba Oct 2020
Maybe if I think about where I last saw it

Where I could've lost it

Retraced my steps

I could find my...uh

...My sanity??
*heavy sigh*
I'm sorry for what I am
I'm sorry for not being good enough
I try as hard as I can to change
There's some things that I wish would go away
There are parts of me that I wish would just die
I'm sorry for being resentful
I'm sorry for being full of Hate
I try to leave my past behind me, but every time I turn away, it's staring me in the face
I know I can be better
That I can be more
I can see a new me at the end of the tunnel, but my demons hold me in place
I'm sorry for pushing you away
I'm sorry for driving you insane
I may not have much to really live for, but what I have is surely more than enough
I'm sorry for all the wrong I do
Can you forgive me? I love you.
Isabella Oct 2020
When I mention my demons
You picture creatures of horror
Contorted faces of terror
Alive to haunt my dreams
And corrupt my mind
With malicious laughter
You imagine twisted voices
Laced with insanity
That push me into the dark
With a touch as cold as a knife’s steel blade
You fear the thought of them
Of me

But my demons are gentle
They’re quiet
I feel their warm breath against my ears
When they whisper softly
Perhaps you don’t hear them because you aren’t listening
For their sharp words
Are said out of love
And their nails digging into my skull
Are only there to keep me safe
In the absence of their presence
I am worse
Which is why I let them stay
Because my demons are real
Bowedbranches Oct 2020
The itching; affects, don't let 'em tell you otherwise
Stay Lost in the ink blots
I promise, It'll help you forget
We're all scared
We're all aware
but w continue keep it quiet.
We continue to hold onto
what we should riot.
We attempt to itch away
what we cannot change..
and that just makes us uncomfortable.
But in that frustration I learn,
love doesn't exist without forgiveness.
But that still doesn't fix this!
So I drink away
my mangled brain
trading this pain
for dizziness
I pondered the thought of insanity
Taking the time to weigh it all up
Feeling the pressure of all consequence
Should I slip up

I began to sift through old recordings
Stashed away in the hope of amnesia
I dusted them off, anticipating
But ready to begin

For in those broken hours formed a lady
Designed by an autistic artist
Those flaws seemed so beautifully *****
Bringing flowers and gifts to her room

I recognised her face in the photograph
Much more dusty than ever before
For the life of me I could not remember her name
She was gorgeous

I endeavoured to find out her meaning
Her purpose, her lifestyle, her goals
In reality, she never knew me
Oh, but I knew her!

Scratching below layer upon layer
Stumbling numb towards truth
Wanting so much, all those flowers
And gifts in her room

For in those broken hours formed a lady
A woman romantically perfumed
Weaving in and out of insanity
Yet, always in truth
the memories of the life of a woman
Harry Roberts Sep 2020
Estrangement and resentment kills like pentobarbitone
Respiratory arrest for a fractured spirit feel like an anodyne
The broken bits of soul can return to the ether and make itself whole
While I become all in the dirt with the soil

Arrangement to derangement in disorder I toil
Peace in the darkest night against the midnight I coil
Velvet in it's embrace I find tranquility in the infinity
Lost my whole life before I returned to the divinty.
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