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Empire Jun 2019
They’re afraid I’m not myself
That the little circular tablet has changed me
But how would we know?
Before I was crippled by adrenaline
I was so young
You can’t compare me to that
And in the midst of my darkest days...
You can’t possibly believe that’s me
Is that who you’re looking for?
Because I don’t care about everything now
It’s not perfect
But I’m not obsessive anymore
And that’s what I needed most
All I have is who I am now
Empire Jun 2019
Disorder
The word still echoes in my head
Surreal and complicated
Such a heavy word
Even though it's been almost a year
Since things were so bad
And I heard the words:
Anxiety Disorder
Eating Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Followed by the words:
Depression
Phobia
Medication
Each one like a lightning strike
I can feel them in my veins
But the most frightening
Was hearing the prefix:
Severe
I'm still not honest enough with myself about some of these words...
Shea Apr 2019
And as the room begins to brighten
I'm enlightened by a soft touch
of bones easily dislocatable
And sensitive to touch
And even though those bones slip
From their holes
The floor holds them before me
So delicate and worn
I've sworn that I'll swallow my disease
Digest it, spit it up before you have
To see it acting up
But today was different
You watched my ears close and head shake
With blood down my nose
Sweat on my clothes
From holding it back.
I'm sorry you had to see it
See it act up.
will Mar 2019
It wasn't a problem
just a tick really
it's kind of silly

It was nothing much
correcting tilted things
organizing rings

It wasn't a problem till after
when nothing was clean
and hands had to gleam

Skin was cracking
it was like a disorder
everything had to be in order
Sophomore year what was there to fear but my own habits?
thea Mar 2019
They will come.
And it'll you.
It'll hit you because its the 21st century, the reality of the modern world. You and them; them and everything that surrounds them.
Like a pedestrian attempt, the government system is all at cost about change and more change and brainwashing.
The in and out assests duplicating the excruciating mantel of dead lives and lives at stake.
You will walk half-asleep doing things you think are important.
Like a baptized child, to sanitize the dirt is even pious to the church, but they will come to you
and expect you to write about them; them and everything that surrounds them.
A column of pathological liars, OCD's, manic depressives, and a row of *** positives is the table of modernism.
But its fine, until 24/7 never stop wishing to 11:11.
Like a house is fine without a home, you will at least feel you're not alone.
They will offer a god - in high buildings, in the streets, in your neighborhood; a fine narcotic charm
that will mend your mood. And then they will come to you.
You and them; the faces, the ideologies, the tattoos, the smell, the drugs, the skin; they will insist you to write about them.
And it'll hit you.
They're disgustingly beautiful.
Way of thinking - sound,
tattoos - artsy,
scent - morning's dew,
drugs - crystal and *****,
skin - cashmere of the richest kind.
Like faith, you are worm on bait in the modern world called 21st century.
They will come to you wanting you to write about them.
You and them; them and everything that surrounds them.
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