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Steve D'Beard Apr 2016
I call it the Changeover;
like an analogue radio searching for a signal
sometimes it's clear
sometimes it's static
sometimes it's in between
somewhere between far away and near
somewhere lost in the middle
between Signal and Static.

Clear Day the signal reaches out its arms as far as the eye can see
and the ears can hear
and the senses can feel
and taste buds pop and linger
and revel in new experience
and comfort in knowing
and wrapped in wonderment.

Changeover Day is somewhere between Clear Day and Nowhere
struggling to tune in
backwards or forwards
or sideways or upwards
to something
to anything that resembles a signal
like hearing voices in another room
an argument through a wall
the indecipherable murmur of music
the clamber of ushered noise
the mishmash and cacophony
like a symphony of Morse code.

Static Day is dark day
there is no signal
no senses
no sound
only indeterminate fuzz
and the crackle of broken glass
and the foghorn
and the white noise
the confusion and delusion
the paranoia of shifting jigsaws
changing pieces that never fit together
can almost make out a face through the frosted glass
the smear like bird **** on a window
halfheartedly wiped with lackadaisical whimsy
and greasy chip shop newspaper.

In the Static there is no wind
no heart to beat
no empathy or sympathy
just
cold
hard
steel
out of place in a room of feathers and feeling.

You just have to ride out the storm
tell yourself:
it'll be calm soon
it'll be calm soon
it'll be calm soon

The Changeover
from Static to Signal
and the welcome return of voices
and breathing
and beating
and feeling.
1 in 4 people will experience a mental health problem
Alyssa Quinones Mar 2016
Lost
A voyage of expression
Of pain
An examination of ones own worth
A date with desperation
A way to find solace, identity
The words kept by the heart and abused by the brain
Where dreams go to die and worries come to stay
To be stuck in an endless void
Where warmth is a stranger and coldness a neighbor
To dance with the monsters that dwell in your head
And comfort the ones that live under your bed
A forbidden art with sweet release
To tangle with your own desires
The darkness brings something the light cannot
Courage, anxiety, strength
A candle provides a dim path
The heat from the fire burns
Reminding you of how alive you are
How blissfully free
And how utterly alone
Cody Haag Mar 2016
I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.

I'm not quite sure how to move forward,
Or how to fix this condition;
It is sad that I have ended up this way,
A disturbing and abysmal rendition.

With knowledge comes power,
Power follows along so close behind.
With knowledge also comes loss,
Innocence is no longer mine.

I fear I have went too far,
I fear there is not much left for me.
I fear I have locked my heart's door,
And let darkness swallow the key.

My goodness peeks through sometimes,
But it is just smothered by disease.
And no matter how hard I try,
It's a sickness I cannot appease.

I wish that God existed,
A merciful, kind deity above,
One that didn't just speak
But act upon the written love.

If that was true, I could find solace,
But God does not exist,
I am finding another way,
Other than religion's devious mist.

Or perhaps that is an overstatement,
For I see no solution.
My morality has bent recently,
Undergoing evil dilution.

I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.
AmyKatrinaSmith Oct 2015
All alone in my room
where the goblins whale, and the wind goes boom,
I sit alone in the corner with flickering lights
with visions of death I'm not feeling quite right.
delving deep in to my outstretched mind
feeling weary i got in to my bed i climbed,
my mind stained with scribbling's of ink spilt ramblings'
visions' of demons and witches
and unholy tampering's.

The eerie halls creaked as I sat up in bed
I saw a man in my room
I reached for the light
it was all in my head.

I arose from my slumbering grave
never too shy and never too brave.
down the towering stairs where the portraits came alive
a thing of nightmares, in the dark the monsters thrive.
they try and tell me it isn't the house to blame
but I'm a prisoner of my own mind
I have gone insane.
ana lytics Oct 2015
serves: one (because you'll probably die alone)

difficulty: simple, but overthink it anyway

ingredients:
one cup anxiety
an ounce of depression
a splash of paranoia
a dash of deflection
a lack of concentration
the fear of rejection
garnish with mood swings
a side of obsession

served: on the rocks
(shaken, not stirred)

instructions: add tequila and drink until symptoms subside
pooki3pooki3 Jul 2015
Barely eating
Won't admit to the hunger I feel
Tell you I already ate
That I'll buy some food later

Don't know what it is
Why it is
I'm not overweight
Don't hate being so skinny

Yet still I won't eat
My stomach so foreign to the concept
For although it's not my weight
I'm still delighted by the flatness of my skin
The fall of weight on those scales

I don't know the truth anymore
Can't make sense of the mess I'm in
Don't know if secrets are good or bad

I'm scared
You don't suspect a thing
Making it so easy to waste away

I feel sick at the smell of food
And I just want to run
Forwards, backwards, I can't tell

Barely eating
I never understood the real me
Never thought I could despise what my stomach so desperately needs
Cat Fiske Apr 2015
keep doing things like you are now,
and I hope to see you get pushed even further down,
by the ones who are supposed to help pull you up.

I will and have always been here to help you,
              and have,
but one day that's going to stop.

and that's going to ****,
when you learn how much the world ***** first hand.
because no one holds your hand.

and life,
its not one plan,
its full of little things you eventually fall into,

but what you have fallen into,
is a sick and twisted pattern,
my old friend,

you gotta get out of this monster,
You know me,
by god,

our house,
everything's a ******* open book,
and sometimes I feel you don't even look,

but maybe your over looking,
or not looking close enough,
Because you were the one whose always had more then enough,

I don't say that to make u feel sorry for me,
but I say it so maybe you on top of everything,
Don't also have to be someone who is mean,

Having a knowledge about me,
you know how,
kids can me cruel,

and your constant put downs,
are no better then the ones I get served at school daily,
from teachers students and friends and now I guess my family,

Being told theirs nothing wrong,
like lying to me,
telling me my dreams are now a reality,

BUT THERE NOT,
because there are too many things wrong to name,
and my dream wont ever become more then a game,
because my mind is being told lies to feed my flame,

and you can call me the lier,
and call it my own game,
ad that I'm only looking to gain,

But I only want to gain,
What I've always been denied,
And that used to be the help I needed in school,

But as you said,
Like everyone else too,
I'm going no where,

So all I ask for,
Is my happiness they robbed me of,
but that's impassible to get back,

Just like love,
But I can at lest act loving,
And pretend happiness is a thing that exists for me,

because I don't know,
What else to do,
because I've missed out on so much,

and for you to tell me I'm stupid and don't know ****,
That's *******,
you don't know ****,

Our house was and always will be an open book,
my life's been discussed openly,
you know everything about me,

so I'll ask you this,
Why didn't you chose,
to look closely?
just my thoughts on my brother trying to call me stupid and worthless and a bunch of other **** when he knows everything about me as it is.
Natalie Clark Nov 2014
I cut myself today.

Not that this is irregular,
Of course,
As you well know.

Or do you know?

You said that you're sorry
That I'm not doing well
At the moment.

But neither are you.

I will never tell you this, but
I message you only
When I cannot hide my worry.

Nothing I send is for me.

You won't care, of course.
You certainly try to hide being ill.
As most minutes I hide

The all-consuming agony

That is how much I care about you.
Don't you leave me.
Don't you ever ******* leave me

Again.
Natalie Clark Aug 2014
Depression is all
About if you loved me, you
Would. But you wouldn't.
Hannah Beth Jul 2014
There are so many ideas
Inside of me

Emotions, stories
Fictitious journeys over land and sea

I could paint them all
So beautifully

But it feels as if
I've lost all ability

To record these words
To let ideas come to be

Locked inside the mess of my mind
And I've lost the key
Pretty ironic writing about writers block
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