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PoserPersona May 12
How much is depression a feeling
versus a way of being
I can’t remember anymore
it’s been so long since I was gold
Thomas W Case Feb 23
Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.
we all go crazy sometimes
Ruther Cabral Jun 2019
It started when I was twelve
A new place, a new school
When I couldn't quite understand myself
Not the best place to lose my school

It started when I was in class
When the teacher called me innocently
My heart started beating too loud, too fast
And then I felt all heads and eyes on me

It started when I was fourteen
The year when I was invited to a dance
But all I could hear were the haunting taunts, so mean
That's why I stayed home in a trance

It started when he asked me out
By this guy I liked, out of the blue
When I tried to answer, I couldn't open my mouth
Red-faced, I ran like an animal escaping the zoo

It started when I was sixteen
And I was graduating top of the class
But giving a speech, I wasn't too keen
Felt a bottomless pit on my stomach so vast

It started when I was an adult
Found myself not getting any employment
I just know that all of this is my fault
Cause it feels like some kind of punishment

I know how it all started
But I only have so much left to bend
I feel like I am being deserted
I just wanna know when this will end
Had an assignment to present social anxiety disorder creatively and this was the result. Only had a day to do this, so it's pretty rough.

Disclaimer: mostly NOT based on my own experiences
Michael H Jun 2019
I think
I want
a gun
And then
I remember
I'm crazy
214 I've finally settled on some rough guidelines for how I will submit
Tess Nicholson May 2019
Mouthing memories of
dumpster feasts.
Wandering or sleeping
in backs of cars or
tucked up into
cold carboard beds.
No warmth and lullabies
just harm, harm, harm.

Abruptly at the doorstep
with garbage bag suitcases.
Talons, overgrown and sharp,
dig up wonderbread skin;
clawing at what has burrowed there.
Smearing up their faces-
war paint so red, red, red.

Narcaned neonates
with powerranger prayers.
Echoing mockingbird profanity
in hollow, hungry mouths-
battle cries and spit.
Playing war in the backyard,
consequences for keeps.

Thin arms and legs sprawl, alien,
decorating the floors with despair.
Spilling out of doorways like lamplight.  
Moving in the night as
feral things do.
Cooing out “mother?”
As I pass in the dark.
Michael H May 2019
A ruin stepped away in the vigor of rain
Puddles playing tricks in your eye
These with so much pain
But at least with emotion

Behemoth vast
Taking warmth in fire,
Affinity to the massive mentality
Flying across the sky,
So is your emotion
Being what it should be:

Refactoring into a stable state


You want them so bad
They take their time
Premonitions felt, but no more
The sky still opened
In a cold soft pour
Your self is siphoned

Your logic took off
Emotions took off
Where are you?
Seeking answers while medicated
Is the only way.
One answer I got:

To always do good
Take natural jumps
When you're productive
More free
Move right and give
Get happy
62 Not super good, kind of a feeling
Michael H May 2019
From feeling music
The world is so beautiful
Your karma is an incredible
Supreme machine of good
And you judge it this way
It is complex

Others wonder
What haunts you
They see you look broken
They wonder why
Why you aren't alone
With yourself
Like most are

You are empathetic
You stagger across heaven and hell
There is unbearable turbulence
Or traumatic exhaustion
...retribution will come...
Do us good
Comfort will come.
19th :) Hi guys!
Chicken Apr 2019
Stalking the importance
That you cannot see within
Creating indeterminate messages
Not sent by her or him

A figment of the ego
Terrifying and dangerous
More so to one’s own personal self
Than the object of one’s lust

O’ hear ye erotomaniac
Hear whence you are ready
The object of one’s fruitless lust
Be mere ego fantasy

Let these words be noted
May they be allowed to heal
O’ hear ye erotomaniac
Before all ends in tragedy.
Erotomania: a delusion in which a person (typically a woman) believes that another person (typically of higher social status) is in love with them.

It’s one of those things where realisation seems difficult to ignite, in order to bring about a resolution within the person. How could this condition begin to be alleviated for the person if realisation is difficult to reach?
dansrdn Jan 2019
She hears nothing
She sees nothing
Just a very dark place

Come here
The voice calls
It's happiness
She flies toward it, with light feelings, while smiling but-

Come here
Another voice calls
It's loneliness
She stops midway
"I'll be right back", she tells happiness
She goes to loneliness with wide arms opened
She was nearly embraced loneliness when

Come here
She hears another voice calling her
It's sadness
She stops.
"Sadness needs me", she whispers to loneliness
And she steps towards sadness
Loneliness tries to hold on her, but she didn't see it

Can you come here?
One more voice calls
She stops again, looking for the voice
It's confusion
She becomes baffled
She wonders whether sadness will be fine
If she goes to confusion now

No, don't!
Come here instead!
One more voice calls!
She turns and look at anger.
She looks at confusion and then anger
What is she supposed to do now?

Come here!
Come here!
Come here!
Come here!
Come here!
Come here!

Emptiness, happiness, loneliness, sadness, confusion, and anger call her
At the same time
She keeps running and running
In circle
Meets no end
Everytime she reaches the borderline, she runs towards different directions
She keeps running

And she hears one more voice

You don't belong anywhere
Finally, frustration says it
She fell down in despair

Come here
She feels cold fingers around her shoulders
She looks up
There stands the death
Giving her the dullest stares
And creepiest smile
My psychiatrist diagnosed me from borderline personality disorder (BPD), and I've always have thought it was bipolar disorder. She explained to me that these both disorders are totally different.
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