Shouldn't be in public Not fit for company Won't remember names Might interrupt, awkwardly Failed attempts at humour You must hate me Failed attempts at flattery Please don't hate me Didn't mean to say that Small talk breakdown Why am I still talking Self sabotage takedown Why am I still here I'm the absolute worst This shouldn't be so painful I wish I wasn't cursed
Sometimes I feel like it's all just a game in my head. I go from moments of intense emotion to nothingness, and when I finally feel okay the cycle starts all over again. And I can't keep these lightning shifts to myself, so I end up ruining everything and everyone else. And even when I recognize the behavior, it shifts to a seemingly more innocent danger. I can't help it, and I can't victimize, so I'll just make everyone hate me so I'll just make everything die.
I don't think this is complete but I feel too numb to write anything good right now so this will have to do until I revisit it :)
There is no beauty In the remains Of crumbling human. Soft Tissue upon bruise upon Broken bone bending Bending to fit the roses Bleeding from open wound Bending to chocolate Mould seeping from every crack And crevice.
There is no beauty In mirrored shards of life Sharp enough to tear Through tendon, tearing Through towns and cities built on Misery and crushing grief There is no beauty
No beauty In glass tears from glass eyes Crying fallen stars and supernovae No beauty In disembodied screams Lungless cries Say goodbye to your life This is real life There is no beauty in My life There is no beauty In me.
A poem in which I try to tackle the romanticisation of mental illness. It is not a glamorous life, I'll tell you that much.
I feel Disembodied Dizzy bodied dizzy mind Busy bodied to pass the time Empty bodied empty mind.
I feel A dulling ache beneath my veins A seismic quake inside my brain Collateral damage and no remains Stay still - And watch it wash like waves Your cave, safe haven torn away
It plays - In the places you called home The heart that stutters between your bones Silent, slowly, no-one knows. The blows and bruises on your skin It always finds some other way in To make you feel I feel.