Inching forward
Face down
Flat on the ground
On the verge of a coma
The strength in me almost
Lost in the darkness
That has encompassed me

Holding out an arm towards
A light I can't seem to see
Awareness towards the pain
Increases continuously
Alone in the darkness of
My soul's demise
It's corruption pulls blindingly
It's whispers of sloth snaking
Through my veins
And into my finger tips...

My hand is slowly giving way
And so is my will
It probably won't stay
Not after my hand touches the ground
And my veins become still
My eyes permanently blinded
My heart completely darkened
That supposed light...
Sucked into the darkness.

Dori 2d

I drank poison
and expected you to be the antidote.
I'm sorry.

Dori 2d

I think what people don’t understand about what I’m going through is that it’s not a connection I’m able to bond with someone over. It’s not like asking about the weather.
I fucking hate the weather.
I mean I love the weather.
But how do you talk about the rush of swallowing rain drops like honey, sitting at the bottom of your tea…to someone who’s protecting their eyes from the sun?

See, my anxiety isn’t cool.
Or beautiful.
Or poetic.
It’s my boss asking how I’m doing and me telling her “I’m tired, but I’m doing good”. It’s her asking if I’ve ever tried melatonin at night to help me sleep.
It’s me saying “Yeah, once or twice” and meaning “I’ve been taking narcotics since I was 16, but I had to ween myself off of them because I’m too nervous to call the pharmacy back”.
It’s not that I don’t sleep. 

It’s that I won’t sleep.

Because I can’t sleep.

Because these voices plant seeds in the dark patches of soil underneath my eyes and I have to let them grow or else I might die. 

It’s not that I haven’t tried sleeping, it’s just that sleeping is hard when you know you have to wake up the next morning.

People don’t understand that wearing the same hoodie for 4 days and not leaving my room for 3, isn’t because I’m lazy or unorganized.
It’s because I haven’t found the motivation to look for the keys that unlock the chains around my ankles that have me shackled to my bed.

Please don’t ask me to go to lunch with you, I won’t be able to sit and have a conversation with you for longer than 10 minutes before I say “I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back”, and that isn’t me using the toilet for anything other than bowing my head in shame, as I throw up the poison and acid in my stomach that I pretended was food.
You’ll ask me “Is that all you’re going to eat? You barely ate anything” and I’ll smile and say “Yeah I wasn’t really that hungry. I had a big breakfast….3 days ago”.

My arms are not an optical illusion.
But if you look at them long enough, I’m sure you’ll see the words to my poems written between the lines.
Don’t ask me about them because I’ll want to tell you about how I never listened to my mom when she told me not to run with scissors.
But I won’t.
I’ll butter it up and tell you that The Lion King is my favorite movie and that my cats name is Scar.
But you’ll tell me you never really liked cats, you’re more of a dog person.

I’m not quiet.
It’s just that most of the time I don’t have anything “socially acceptable” to talk about.
I’m not quiet, I’m not tired…well I am tired.
Jesus fuck I’m always so fucking tired. But I’m aware.

I think that’s what a lot of people don’t understand. 


My story isn’t written in ink on pretty piece of stationary. 
It’s not squeezing a stress ball because I have an exam at 8 in the morning. 
It’s not wearing all black.
It’s not eating almonds for dinner.
It’s not heartbreak. 
It’s not falling leaves or stars in the sky.
It’s summer, spring, fall and winter all tied up in a nest of knots, sewn together with every vein in my body.
It’s 7 journals, in 6 months with 27 suicide notes, 4 hospitalizations and a dozen different letters I’ve written to the voices inside my head.
It’s 13 pills a day kissed by bottle of wine every night.
It’s not a symbol of beauty, it’s a form of torture.
And that’s what people don’t understand.

But my job isn't to make you understand it..my job is to make sure I survive it

She was the venom I wanted, collecting within mind.
My thoughts corrupted by that slithering smile.
But all I wanted was that look dissolving my will,
her bite corrupting my weakened will.
Her voice corroding my resolution of that smile.

Looks that could give a stroke to those of weak inclination.
Her touch would climb upon contemplation and weaken
the perception of all falling within her gaze.
She was the poison that I wanted corrupting my sweat.
Have you ever kissed something so sweet that you
go blind, the look that erodes my will...

I wanted to touch every moment, but my senses
were being influenced by her hypnotic glares.
She gave a reflection of love, but they were eroding
my senses of what was safe. But I couldn't touch,
because she was the venom on my brain.
I wanted to touch, but her sweet venom numbed my brain

Looks that could give a stroke to those of weak inclination.
Her touch would climb upon contemplation and weaken
the perception of all falling within her gaze.
She was the poison that I wanted corrupting my sweat.
Have you ever kissed something so sweet that you
go blind, the look that erodes my will but I'm fine...

My homage to poison Alice Cooper

His biggest mistake is that he loved
his greatest choice is that he loved

Katie 6d

I feel rage...
Rage for all of us who have been violated.
My heart is oh so heavy.
It seems to be everywhere.
And we suffer in silence.
How can anyone do that to another human being? It's a silent epidemic.
Why is nobody talking about.
Human... we all have dignity.
How dare someone treat you.. me.. like an object to be played with, trampled on and then tossed to the side like nothing.
Do you know what thorns you stabbed and wrapped around my heart?
You've left scars on my heart forever.
For some moments of power & pleasure... you steal the light within someone's soul.
How dare you...
You put poison on a bleeding soul.
Choking; I tried to survive life suffocating on your poisonous after affects.
I used a lot of bad anesthesias along the way. Who was I trying to protect?
You paralyzed me for some time.
Time to cleanse my body of your darkness.
I feel sorry for your twisted soul.
You won't get the last word.
No no.
I will.

Jacob Sep 11

I swear that I've been praying for a better day
But everyday I swear it feels like it's getting worse
I'm losing everybody slowly and it's causing me pain
Maybe the afterlife would be better than this Earth?
Depression is killing me up inside
I'm all alone and I'm feeling so useless
My friends told me I've been acting so stupid
But they don't know how I've been really doing
It's not easy when you have nothing and have nobody
So if I take my life no one else would care about it
Been contemplating for a while to pull this trigger now
I hope you keep this same energy when I'm going down
You don't even know what I'm going through
I feel like I got nothing else to lose
I don't know what to do, can you help me?
Because I will pull this trigger if you let me
I've been trying hard but I'm only human
And the devil got my soul

1-800
Vexren4000 Sep 7

A crop yielding profits,
One of the original vices of humanity,
Not as deadly as modern man does say,
A bright pink patch of flowers,
Jutting out of the top,
Humanity seems to have forgotten,
Of the beauty of the plants,
From the poppy flower,
To the deadly nightshade,
Man forgets of these things,
As if he never cared in the first place.

©BAS

I should be saying
That I'm thankful
For every breath I take
But truthfully
I'm not.

Every time I inhale
It's a long draw
Of a cigarette bud
That isn't mine
Forcing me to wheeze
And cough up the venom
That scorches my lungs

I am cursed
With the longing
To breathe fresh air
And rid myself
Of what I've become so attached to
Just because it's not my nicotine
Doesn't mean I'm not addicted to it
Addicted to dying
Addicted to the thrill of wondering
If this will be
My last cough

Quitting isn't my choice
I'm not the one
Who lights up
With shaking fingers
Shielding a flame from the wind
I'm just the one
Who enjoys
The ashtray full of burnt consequences

I don't have the option
To become unattracted
To the white clouds
Floating around your lips
I was already convinced
That following you
Was as good as resting in the sky
Even if my rest
Was on pillows
Made of poison

I can't say I'm thankful
For the intoxicatingly
Toxic air
That you spoon fed me

But I sure am blissful

I'm not stupid enough to think
Thankfulness and blissfulness
Are the same thing
I am smart enough to know
That honestly
I'm no better than you
Even if I wanted to be

You never offered me
My own cigarette to smoke
But standing next to you
I'm as good as dead.

Toxic relationships.
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