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Alex B Sep 19
I needed to look outside
Deep into the dark night
And see nothing staring back at me

Or telling me what to say
How to be
Other than myself?
Do you think I don't know
What proceeds this next fall?
The light, the hope, the passion
That used to send sparks into the sky.

And now I just want to not think
About the world on my shoulders
The cramp in my hand because I can't
Keep up with how fast I'm thinking
And writing and loving and feeling and learning.

Be still
My soul
And I will rest, finally.
I will say nothing
But felt seen
And not heard

I am sick of calling out into the limitless night
Looking for answers
That will never come
Stars wished on are just comets.

They all crash and burn
Sacrelicious Sep 11
Personally, ive never understood your motives. But I forgot, I don't have a voice in your mind.
I'm just another
crazy *****.

Mixed mania and euphoric depression. Sulking in deep seeded rage.

I am but a chameleon.
With my thoughts.
With my feelings and my personalites.
Histrionic, demonic and quite triggered.

It's like I'm living in third person.
But still,running the show from the upper stage though.

I guess, our lot in life is to play our hands.
And play them well.

I'm sitting on a royal flush.
But you'd never know.
It's just not my turn to play yet.

Life's a really hard game.
Ackerrman Sep 9
There goes the alarm again.
The misanthropic crusader goes into shock,
I calm it down; comfort is mania.
Stare despondently into the void.

A chorus rises,
Violence, people trapped in time shout through metal,
A voice cries, confined, bounces from hall to wall,
I am not sure I woke up at all.

Some higher functioning brain activities
Get bored in their entropic state-
Trade places with whimsy,
Because that is what they do when they lose interest in their task,

As I have lost interest in my task,
And look for more chin music-
To raise a symphony within me.
To make one day look different to the last.
I wrote this a few months ago; It is about waking up.
Sacrelicious Sep 1
If my mind could
stop only for a moment.
To catch its breath.

I don't think this
would be so hard.
Breathing in water has never looked so fun.

But I digress.
For I am just at a crossroads waiting to get my guitar tuned.

In the wrong place.
At the right time.
The wheel of misfortune has changed its course.
Can you see me?
I’m standing still while running circles,
fixated as if I'm looking through you,
Can you see me, yet?

I’m sorry you can’t understand,
Maybe it’s better off that way.
I can’t have you feeling this pain for it choke you,
You my dear are strong,
but this takes a deeper strength.
A weight only people like me can carry.
I could never ask you to walk in my shoes for that might still sometimes isn’t enough.
I still feel smothered,
In a lifeless body.
Can you see me floating?
Can you see me arguing with myself?
I have good days, but I have just as many bad,
The bad takes over at times and wears out its welcome.
Can you see me?
I used to be full of life,
I miss me.
I know you miss me as well,
But I’m on pause,
And with that I have no answers,
because without fault you'll never see me,
for I'm afraid that that girl just may be dead,
by no means to be seen again.
Trying to get through to my husband that my depression is so severe that I'll never been that girl he fell in love with again.
Sacrelicious Oct 2017
Mania is a euphoric dream.
When you're free falling,
down into catatonic darkness.

Depression, dwelling in a snow globe.
Caught in a storm beneath the glass above me.

Drownding in my own sorrows.
Some days I'm just pushing daisies forward.
Disasociative by defense. This is overwhelming to my system, overload.
Others are spent making up for lost time.  

Either way the pendulum swings.
Life is a perpetual episode when you're wearing your crazy badge.
Lyra Saros Jul 3
I wish I didn’t always say
“I’m sorry”
To you but
I am
I do

I wish I didn’t lie so easy
Your lungs eat honesty like air so

When I say “I love you” what I really mean is
“You smell enough like my mother I can almost forget how much it hurts” or
“You look just like a ghost when you smile”

And when I kiss you goodnight I’m really just trying to
Mask the taste of copper with salty skin and your perfume

I can try to love you but
Both our hands are too cold to hold
So we’ll just **** until we’re warm again

We are mania
We are the exact opposite of a butterfly kiss
We are each other’s anchors to the chaos

My heart only beats when yours does and
My skin only crawls when yours scars it and
I know I’m going to burn alive in you
but we’re both going to die in the end

At least your torture feels safer
Sacrelicious Jun 23
I feel like
a high functioning

Though well intended.
Usually dormant and
overtly complacent in the
' a for effort way'.

Hiding in plain sight.
Meditating on the perfect time to cause a
mother ******* scene.
I see the ghosts of my fallen formers animated before me,
I have yet to meet the stranger who reads me bedtime stories.

Haunting cosmic music lures me from my bed at night,
I feel pink static tickle my brain before I take flight.

I’m not equipped to handle the energy mania bestows upon my mind:
A hypernova blast ripping through my universe, leaving nothing left to find.

The bustling sounds- of what once was- draws me downstairs,
I hear the kettle boiling, the television blaring, the scraping of chairs.

The magical love I feel is compressed, in my chest, into a tiny singularity.
If this is what you call crazy, then I don’t want to come back to reality.
Questions come in stories
Building towers full of worries
For me to leap off of and into a sea
A sea of anxiety, never-ending, undying
And although I laugh as if my wilting flower is fine
It wilts until completely deprived
Dried and deceased, crumbled and stagnant, at least
Up and down goes my merry-go-round
Crooked crown, a king resting on hell hounds
Painted portraits, of hypnotic orchids
I've lost my mind
In a mania.

In a mania
I've lost my mind
My emotions have become so much more synthetic
Abolished to hell where the bad dogs go
Spinning round and round, disrupting my mental flow
Chaotic, messy, lively, wet, to say the most
It grows until completely fulfilled
Although I cry, because my growing weeds are poor
I feel somewhat okay, on this burning sediment
And as I clutch onto the rope above me
Burning the ground of any hope
Answers are lost in mazes
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