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Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
She lived on
the outskirts of sanity,
took up jogging
to outrun the rush
of other voices,
burned a sick day
organizing her own criticisms,
shaved her legs and edges
for practice sake,
trimmed her disorders
as "normal" girls do,
bought a fancy dress
to envy but never wear,
made marks on the calendar
to believe she had places to be,
like the local
coffee shop,
where they serve
a favorite flavor,
somewhat stable,
somewhat frenzy.
Inspired by the poem title "Outskirts," by fellow HP writer Amanda.
N Mar 2020
My head is always howling,
so I never sleep,
I keep on listening
An ode to my beloved insomnia.
nevaeh Jan 2020
It's like these words were written by someone else.
I see things that remind of you and they scare me.
You do not scare me.
I am hiding from words which individually mean nothing.
Together they are frightening.
What is this anxiety, why is it haunting me?
Why am I so repelled by what i love?
Because I love you.
I really, truly do.
And I am not repelled by you.
I am repelled by myself.
My own actions and thoughts and feelings.
But that will never be stronger than this.
Us.
im not going anywhere, i dont know whats wrong with me but i canget over it for you.
roses Jan 2020
there is no way to describe it.
i am flying, high above my problems
but also drowning helplessly in them.
my nerve endings are alight,
tingling with electricity
like a live wire right before it shocks.
i am engulfed by flames of a fire i lit,
red, hot, uncomfortable
yet everything is a hazy, euphoric lilac.
i can't breathe. but i don't need to.
my chest feels like it carries ten kilos,
but i am weightless
light-footed,
as though you need to hold onto me
or else i will float off.
i can't focus. not on me. not on you.
the world is spinning out of control
so hold me.
hold me until i come down,
slowly,
but please,
don't let me fall.
i needed to write because i didn't know what to do with myself, especially when my brain is going 200 in a 60 zone.
undermyfeet Dec 2019
Your hands are cream
They rub into me
Filling my skin with content

Your eyes are chocolate
They melt my gaze
My mouth goes dry with want

Your heart is jelly
I wish to take a bite
Would you let me,
even if my teeth leave a mark?
I wrote this in my stage of manic. I wondered about the kind of love that I wish to have, and I reached a conclusion; that I want to leave something behind, so that they won't forget me.
N Nov 2019
I’m a light switch!

You see,
when I‘m switched on
everything turns bright,

and when I’m switched off,
I become one with the darkness

I could be
too bright at times,
or a an utterly dark self

It’s hard to recognize me
when it‘a dark, I’m unseen

But I can’t recognize myself
when it‘s bright, I’m blinded

All I need is the a
trigger to turn
a bright room
into a graveyard

So please be more
careful with me

I am a light switch
N Nov 2019
“Show us your scars”
When they should’ve said shame  

“Point on where it hurts”
Yet they couldn’t find a cure

“Have you been thinking about death?”
Like my thoughts wander to anything else

“Just take this pill in the morning”
But I‘m up every morning

“You’re safe here”
I felt their eyes under my skin

“Have you assaulted anyone in your life?”
Can’t they see that I‘m the victim here

“Can we send you home without worrying?”
As if I can guarantee them my life,
as if I have a home

“Bring your mother with you in the next session”
But I’m in therapy because of her  

“Have you considered electroshock therapy?”
And now they want to cause me more trauma

“How many times have you attempted suicide?”
“Enough times to believe that I have already died” I said finally
x Sep 2019
i am a hopeless romantic
with suicidal antics
that cant seem to love herself

she cant seem to nudge herself
out of depressive episodes
but she has expressive goals
to fall in love

to call on love
for several favors
and she has several wagers
that "this one will be 'the one'"
that what ever is done
can be undone
and that she will be okay
because one day love will fix it all

she is a pathetic romantic
with an optimistic aesthetic
and a manic
personality
A Simillacrum Sep 2019
staring once more
into myself
dregs staring back
me, "nothing more
than a character"
then close, it follows
staring inside
from the outside
what do you see?

can't escape the
sum of my parts
smoke signals sent,
nothing returned
need to ask those burned
"should i burn myself"
hurting inside, toiling
the trivialities.

what's the good word?
i'm making sense
time wasn't lost,
the time was spent

every once in a while
i can act out certain scenes
in ways my words
could never say

my worst qualities crack the best of my plans
my worst qualities crack the best of my plans

there was a point,
the recent past,
this act had meant
feeling concrete
the cast has since
disappeared
let the pour pool
up here, set
around my feet.

my worst qualities crack the best of my plans
my worst qualities crack the best of all my plans

i'm split, i'm split, i'm split
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