people ask me how i’m doing and i say ‘okay’ nobody questions it; cuz that’s what they all say only time my words are questioned is when i speak my mind don’t wanna hear reality, so put me back in line i wish the whole wide world could know just how i feel this life of fear and lies simply has no appeal the voices in my head speak more truth than you i’m getting tired of always confusing the two my mind is a haunted house; there’s more to me than meets the eye body full of so many secrets despite my size
if given the choice, maybe i wouldn’t choose this one to possess occupying a vessel this anxious just leads to more stress ‘friend in high places’ but the place is your head [in the clouds] smoking and drinking to quiet us; but trust me you can’t drown us out there’s more work to be done and words to be said most talk internally but that don’t mean we’re not friends
something to be said about an openminded guy with so much personality they started to compile a collective consciousness sprouting within took years too long to finally let us in but here we are, now you know and you listen at names mentioned, your heart now quickens beats as one, as we are together a single unit of several, here for each other confusing to all but one another you find yourselves in us
Paranoia runs through my veins everywhere I go. I don't feel alone when I'm at home alone; I feel watched and stalked as I roam the streets alone; I constantly feel dread and think of the worst, you can tell me your loyalty to me but I'll question your words. You can reassure me and occupy me, but I'll always come back to how I was- plagued by the paranoia of the unknown.
Knees and the cold kitchen floor And crying And Begging on knees And no no not one bit of hope All gone The hope, I mean And sanity on a Tight thread Let dread Consume me Ate me from inside Out Out there and maybe then i could Be better So i was taken and Shut In a Small room with a round mirror Above an itchy bed and I would look up and See What i think Was, myself
He said he'd be here again tonight After 9pm And he always comes when he says he will My fear is increasing as the second hands ticks rhythmically towards the time When he will appear Not come in Not arrive But appear He says I belong to him That he likes to watch me hurt and suffer And that it's for my own good I don't know what to believe I just obey him But not out of loyalty or trust out of fear
This is based off a close friend's experiences with schizophrenia and how they felt when they were at their worst. I decided to write it in first person to make it more relatable :)
The Cut off to the cries of disorder. As I looked over my shoulder to its beauty. At the collar of a nurse who stood by me. She asked me why are you crying? Its the paper and the order of the checkmarks. And all that has happened before me.
Pressurized Sapphire. Potent yet impotent. Capturing the light for our eyes and reflecting like delta. Deep and relaxing waves, like a nights breeze cooling down the fires of stress to which our tears may not always supress.
A soft and cool happening that took place in the relief effort of a panic attack.
The fear tore at my insides Like the merciless storm raging outside The truth sank in Like the knife soon to pierce my chest They were coming I stood at death's door But no longer by choice Three people Who I thought were my friends Stood behind me They've tied my hands They've injured me I don't want to die But I can't fight them anymore I'm powerless Helpless It's over.
This is a poem I wrote a few months ago when I was very mentally unwell and completely believed that my friends and family were going to **** me. It doesn't even begin to describe the pain and terror I was going through at that time.
Looking from the other side of the mirror, Seeing through ***** glasses, There is something not real about this moment Like looking at a reflection of a reflection of a reflection…. Something just undefinable, A gap between my here, And their here. My now, And their now. So fine as to be invisible but so wide That one is unaware of the other. I’m existing in their world But not of their world. Watching life as a live broadcast With a nano-second delay. Seeing the muzzle flash Then hearing the shot. The familiar is unfamiliar, The same, though different. Like the thinnest sheet of clear ice My perception could shatter….. But then do I return to what was before? Or am I left with an existence of emptiness?