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Cameron Brookes Mar 2015
I know im not here.
Even when I am.
I know my mind is awash with fear.
So I wash my hands, until they bleed, to rid myself of all that feed
Upon my soul, my mind, my sanity.
I care not for the worlds vanity.
The towels stained red, with the blood of my palms.
As the sun breaks the misty horizon.
I yawn with dark eyes and dry, peeling skin.
Because I am Finally clean.
To welcome the dawn.
Cameron Brookes Mar 2015
When I'm wide awake
At 4 AM
My mind still buzzing while my body is shaking
A tear rolls down my pale cheeks
As I clutched and pulled and begged at the sheets
My hands red, raw, with a thousand tiny lacerations
The train of my thoughts not stopping at stations
As my conciousness fades, an attempt to stall,
the inevitable breakdown.

And I fall
And fall.
Mosaic Mar 2015
Ambition
       becomes fear
When you're the one holding yourself back

                               ~~

The rain, drops
like seconds of a clock
And I rather keep my own time

                           ~~

The porch is stripped bare
like my opened robe
the full moon an umbrella
shining light on    my     own    pale skin
Another counterfeit
of the celestial globe

                           ~~

The shower spews meteors
burning fever, hot hot hot
like it's the one who's sick

                           ~~

I paint my nails with a
toothbrush
'Cause all I'm really doing
is trying to get Clean

                           ~~

Force fed thoughts
like baby food
when does motherly ad(vice)
Finally cut the cord
Should I separate these? Needs work.
Cameron Brookes Feb 2015
Kristina, my friend that I adore.
Kristina, you smiling bubbly joy.
In the dark hours we talked and talked.
When the summer came the world we walked.
I held you close when times we tough.
You held me back, strong but not rough.
Your eyes glisten a deep dark brown.
A face to beautiful to know a frown.
And then he came.
You speak with him, while I wait in the rain.
My hopes and dreams circling the drains.
But still I'm happy that you are too.
Because that is love if the love is true.
I hope he makes you happy, stays loyal through thick and thin.
But we both know that’s not the case.
So why did you choose him?
When I eat I chew equally on both sides of my mouth
This is because if I don’t
I worry the teeth on one side will get cavities and eventually fall out
I touch with my toes the yellow stripes lining the stairs outside
alternating a different foot and different parts of my shoes every time
If I don’t the paint will stick to my feet
Turning my shoes the same yellow as the concrete
They’ve recently come in contact with
Now I know you think these notions are crazy and I agree
For people with obsessive compulsive disorder little everyday things
Can take a little longer
We think differently
And honestly I don’t mind that my mind minds things
Other’s brains don’t seem to be constantly thinking about.
My uncle, the child psychologist, once told my mother
I don’t have this illness
Because often I’m not bothered by my abstract obsessions
With frustration wrinkling her face she snapped back
That I most certainly do because they bother her!
My mom hates that I can’t stand to be in our living room
When the volume of our television isn’t on a number divisible by five
Or an even number if the digit’s below twenty  
She’s afraid I’ll revert back to that time when I was in grade school
That time where I would wash my hands so much they cracked and bled
Whenever she tried to hold them
The pain for me was temporary but she tells me she can still feel the sting
My mother blames herself for my problems like your average parent does
I catch her thinking to herself
“Maybe if I hadn’t constantly clipped my daughter’s nails”
“She wouldn’t bite them until blood”  
Maybe, but probably not
When she looks at me
I can see her thinking
“What if I’d never told her about the germs?”  
“What if I had listened?”
"What if I'd done more to help?"
“What if I’d paid more attention?”
She doesn’t realize that she did
She’s always helped me
She was the one who listened while I cried as the monsters called bacteria
Crawled under my skin
Holding my crumbling hands
My mother, keeper of the non compos mentis
Never cried
Never yelled
Instead she took my ****** palms and sang
As she fixed them with Band-Aids, lotion, and kisses.
She’s always there to try and fix me when I fall apart
When I worried so much my hair grew thin
She gave me her own mother’s worry dolls
Telling me they would do all the fretting for me
she placed them ‘round my room
But I worried that my worries would make them too worried
And wondering if you could die from anxiety
I stuffed them in the back of my dresser drawer whispering,
“You’ll be safer here”
I want to do that to my mother
I know I cause her sleepless night
I can see her lying in bed wondering if I’m eating,
If I’m living
If I’m even breathing
You see,
My lack of sanity is slowly taking hers
This woman who raised me spent so long defending me from my demons
She forgot to fight off her own
Well now it’s my turn
I’ll tuck her safely in my dresser drawer
Nestled next to my old worry dolls
ThereI’ll keep her safe
I’ll take my meds
I’ll eat my supper
I won’t upset her
She’s my mother
She doesn’t deserve a crazy daughter
I'll Shield her from my worries to protect her from her own
Because that’s what love is
Love is the lotion on my hands
Love is changing the volume when no ones looking
Love is not understanding but still listening
And most importantly love is worrying
My mother shows her love by trying to keep me together
I’ll show mine by trying not to break her or myself apart
Today I missed my Mom for the first time in a long time. She calls and asks me how I'm doing on my own up here. I know she worries about me. I worry about her too, and to me that's love.
Pokkuri Jan 2015
I find as I sit,
upon this isolated curb.
Flashes pass me,
at exceeding speeds.
I see a girl,
She rushes over to me,
worried and concerned.

As I try regain my thoughts,
She slowly begins to ponder.
'What are you doing here'
No longer could I hold in
'I'm stuck in this torment,
these flashing lights are blinding me, dazing me, but worst of all they're continuously haunting me'

As I hold in the tears in which I have already wept,
she grabs my hand.
Always asserting,
all will be well.
After tears for what seems like hours. I notice the flashes are gone.
The woman takes my hand, and proceeds to take me away from this cursed highway towards her car,
until I get lost again
I am awaiting long overdue psychotherapy over what is very much expected Bipolar Disorder and OCD (obsessive thoughts). The flashing consistant cars are my thoughts rushing uncontrollably, I am stuck. The poem begins which is a very similar mood change to me
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