clever May 8
We tried so hard to escape.
I guess my heart got caught on the barbed wire.
I sat on the fence and watched you leave, watched you leave me behind.
My fingers locked in the chain link, my body paralyzed by the spotlights.
I’ll always be locked up in you.
Sanny Mar 18
Shaking on the bathroom floor.

Mascara running down my cheeks.

The smell of alcohol on my breath.

Cold sweat.

I can't move.


I am one with my anxiety.

Same words echoing in my head.

"He's back".
Sometimes I wonder if the razor blades I used to drag onto my skin leaves bits and pieces of itself inside my body.
It would explain why I'm always being pulled back into my room, as if it were a magnet.
It irks me that I always find myself standing in front of my bed and hiding under the covers until a new day begins.
I pull myself out, but I end up in this dull lighted room every single time.
I wish I could stop but my body self consciously just wants to be in here.
Is it the accustomed loneliness? The overwhelming depression? The looming anxiety? It's too much, my brain can't comprehend.
I just think about this while I lay in this god damn tear soaked bed.
I let my mind race while my arm trickles with the damages I've done.
They say blood is thicker than water, but when it's self inflicted drops of blood and bittersweet saltwater tears, they're both just as heavy.
I find myself punching and banging my head against the wall next to my bedroom door.
I can just... turn the knob and fucking leave, but I always stop in front of it as if it were a monster I couldn't defeat.
Am I entrapping myself just to make myself suffer? Do I enjoy this torture? Do I just love watching my knuckles turn green and blue?
I feel like I'm obligated to stay in this stupid room.
Maybe it's the self hatred telling me I deserve to be confined.
Maybe then no one will see my stupid face.
Maybe then no one can hurt me again.
No one else can hurt me but myself.
I know the capabilities to which my own destruction towards myself extends.
Some times I feel like I'm intentionally keeping myself in imprisonment.
I can't love myself because people tell me I must stay away from what I fear.
Fear is supposed to drive me away, not let it become one within me.
And I feel like shooting out my brain will make this white noise fucking stop.
I feel like slitting my veins on my wrists will make everything go away.
It can be so easy to take all this weight off my worn out brain.
All the pain, all the ache, all the hurt, all the suffering, all the torture, all the bruises, all the cuts, all the voices, all the reminders, all the insecurities, it would all just go away.
With just one single movement.
I can interpret this in however I feel would be for the best.
I can either open my bedroom door and run without looking over my shoulder, or I can open up my skin and watch it turn into a red and white color.
I just... need to get up. Move. Go somewhere. Anywhere. Leave. Now.

.... But I can't.
I have realized that I'm somehow always being pulled back into my room.
How much more will I have to break my bones,
How much more will I have to stay paralyzed,
How much more will I have to rip out my skin,
How much more will I have to claw out my heart,
Before someone comes and reincarnates me back into a healthy new born?
I’m used until I'm useless.
Karisa Brown Aug 2017
We all pour expressive concrete
On our faces
From time to time
We all lay paralyzed by our
Own imagined fears

What we do next
Is what cuts the cord
Or plunges the knife
Meg B Aug 2017
I am paralyzed by fear.
I am paralyzed by doubt.
I am paralyzed by the questions I don't want but need to ask.
I am paralyzed by the answers I don't want but need to know.
I am paralyzed staring at my pillows as my body hangs sideways off of the bed.
I am paralyzed by the feelings I almost wish I had never felt.
I am paralyzed by my past.
I am paralyzed by past lies and how they're seeping into my present psyche.
I am paralyzed by the love that I've felt.
I am paralyzed by the potential love I'm now unsure I want to feel.
I am paralyzed by the future, by what it holds.
I am paralyzed by you.
Pineapple Isle Aug 2017
Could I write
to suck out the poison
that paralyzes me?
I'm considering adding "and makes me feel ill" at the end. I can't decide which way I like it better.
AllyRose Jun 2017
Her eyes are weary, but she’s wide awake.
She can’t seem to shake this feeling away.
She knew what you were, but had to learn the hard way.
She broke out of the asylum.
Night terrors still haunt her in the dark.
Blinded by her dreams.
There’s a disease in her garden.
She had no choice except to abandon all of her sins back in autumn.
Here in the shadow she cries.
Every night she holds on for dear life.
Barely making it out alive.
Here in the shadow she only just survives.
In a bed she doesn’t want to sleep in,
In a world she doesn’t want to live in,
In a universe she doesn’t want to exist in,
Is where she lies.
She wants to pull her stomach over her head and swallow.
The weight is adding to the baggage she always carries.
It’s not as strong as all of this tormenting sorrow.
She suffered through the invasion.
Her soul forever paralyzed.
If she ends this now, she’ll never feel anything again…
saranade Apr 2017
My hand held out... guard your back
When your friendships lacked give money or supplies
When you couldn't survive hold your hand
When you needed support give you a hug
When you needed love high five yours
At all of your endeavors pat on your back
When you succeeded this or that throw a thumbs-up
Because you never gave up

My hand held out... cover my eyes
Through all of the lies hide evidence
When you lacked common sense understand the unreal
Amounts of items you'd steal my chin to stipulate
The way you'd manipulate cover my heart and divert
From your stories that hurt.

I could do this when I had two hands.
I could juggle these separate demands.
My dominant hand is limp now.
The tasks I take on are now simple.
I can only do one thing at a time.
Like, write out this single line rhyme.

When you see my hand out...
...from utter desperation
Please don't tabulate your accommodation
...remember I never asked before my disability
That you had previously admired my stability
...homeless, dirty and hungry
Offer to help me, without charging money
...keep in mind, it's the only one I have
My abilities and tasks all need to be halves
...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised
Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.
I feel like my sister is so concerned with money, she didn't offer help to her newly disabled sister (me) until I could pay her. When things got worse, she didn't even check on me because she knew I had no money.
saranade Apr 2017
My freedom of expression,
Or, freedom to exist...
I've had to suppress, any implication,
That I was free, IT was free,
Or that I could rest.
My obligations became innovations,
My "freedom" was a serious test.

Shut my mouth.
Silence my thought.
Burn holes in my own sky...
To survive,
Just to... Get by.

There's no blood on the hand
of the devil begging for a gun...
But, the blood of my son,
My thoughts, my thighs,
My sun, my sky...
I'm paralyzed.
I idealized and fantasised
...a metaphor...
Something in-between dead and alive.

But this is literal.

Cry freedom for a body that fails.
An existing breath that bent steel.
Locked in the prison with 10 wardens.
Slave to a super power.
And I'm furious you sent me a bill.
I ate your currency.
I'm... Fed... Up.

Your devil is free to stare,
poke fun and share
...the misery... suffering...
I'm paralyzed.

This is literal.
So many applications
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