Wax in chanting imagery
on stone, scissors, paper
39 strong hues mixing
cut into pieces
melting into sculpture
revealing landscape
vistas of the earth
(C) 2017 Christos Victor. All rights reserved.

Adult coloring book therapy and the child's game "rock, paper, scissors" with a bit of a pun thrown in.

CRAYON in 25 words
Ever since I can remember
I'd been haunted by hunger.
Dreams of nothing but fullness.
Always out of
My reach.

A kind witch saw my despair
Promised me a magic sack
For only one small favor,
Then I could be full
My whole life.

All she asked for in return
Were descriptions of dishes.
Their taste, shape, smell, in detail.
For she can only
Eat this way.

So I comply with it, gratefully.
She casts charms, orders to eat:
Just open your mouth, it's there.
Bit groggy, I reach.
I feel it.

Marvellous, juicy, so fresh.
I praise that found piece of meat.
She smiles. I scrape round for more.
Dig deeper, she prompts.
So I break my jaw,

I lick the blood off my chin,
It's sweet and sour, just served.
How much further must I dig
For this feast's main course?
My beating
Hello I hated these sessions they felt like interviews for her enjoyment not my betterment and I hope my old one's coming from her leave soon... Also this is a kinda old poem but I felt so-so abt it and waited to edit it later. Anyways if u relate keep looking for a good one, I promise it'll work out eventually!
Madolyn 7d
feel your body sink down
your hands and feet are numb
half awake, half asleep
melting into the blanket underneath you
all there is
is your breath

and the kindest voice
explaining and guiding
                                                                ­    to even deeper relaxation
hypnosis felt so nice, like a better version of sleep
zane b 7d
i can exist in a world where people do things that upset me, but don't hate me.
i can exist in a world where i can get negative feedback, and still be a good person.
i can exist in a world where my parents fight with me, but still love me.
i can exist in a world where i am safe and i will not let myself be hurt again.
i can exist in a world where i am loved.
i can exist in that world.
i can exist.
therapy musings i guess.
my therapist said the first sentence to me and it....sparked something in me?
h m w Mar 8
Sometimes I force myself into this certain mood
One that my therapists weren’t able to conclude

I think I would describe it as if I were on the ocean floor
Beautiful yet isolated in the dark with no door

Life is calming and depressing yet beautiful in a way
I reminded myself that I ditched reality, I wasn’t one to stay

I have these tricks that I use to make myself feel numb
Some would say they’re dangerous, but at least they make my heart drum

Vodka tastes like water, and cigarettes feel like fresh air
When I use too much I sometimes pull out my hair

Sometimes these mechanisms make me cry
But people just label this beautiful thing as ‘high’

Once in awhile I want to stay in that trance forever with no end
Because why should it matter when I have no one to call a friend?

No one cares in my mind but maybe it’s because I want to be alone
Maybe it’s because I force myself to feel this pain down to the bone

Why do I love to hurt myself so much?
I love the way things sting when there’s pain to the touch

Maybe it’s a dark addiction out of the many I own
One where I would love for my life to just postpone

Once again as I write this I want something to make me numb
Or maybe I just took something to think I’m having fun

To pave a smile upon my face for only a few hours at most
I’ve asked myself multiple times, ‘how much to overdose?’

I have a relatively good life but a relatively gruesome mind
When I get in these moods, happiness is the hardest to find

I don’t want to feel happy again
I feel like my body is the one to condemn

I don’t want to feel like this necessarily
But the way it comes upon me is completely involuntary

I don’t want to get better
But don’t worry because this is not my suicide letter.

It comes naturally
to write down my thoughts
Even in the worst situations,
When my mind is in knots

No one to share with
Except the pencil and paper
My notebooks and notepads
Stacked as high as a skyscraper

Writers are the loneliest of people
Or so, I’ve been told
I believe the lonelier one is,
the more pens one holds
Juverine Wan Mar 5
Just last night Someone was feeling down
Someone came to me
Someone did not know me
Yet Someone trusted me

Someone told me her troubles
and though I did not know
the pain Someone was expressing
The pain Someone did not show

I carried on with Someone
I talked to Someone as a friend
I boosted Someone's confidence
I let Somone vent and rant

Someone thanked me with happiness
Someone called my words beautiful
So now I wonder
Who was it that consoled who?
Lacey Clark Mar 4
My therapist recently asked me "have you ever tried mindfulness?"
I laughed a bit, thinking of the week-long mindfulness camp I attended for suicidal adolescents. I went twice.
This peaceful brain training is essentially giving us a sanctuary to retreat when the world is too loud.
We would eat skittles and describe their flavor and textures. We would focus on our breaths. Make beaded art. Tell collaborative stories. Follow guided meditations laying on unfamiliar gym floors, giggling a bit as we soared through clouds.
I remembered my dedication to mindfulness and the rich peace I felt from finding the present moment.
Now that my anxiety followed me into adulthood, I hadn't been more It's kind of a stupid challenge since the present is always here... and yet, it's still a challenge.
I look out my dusty, sun filled window decorated with three vases of dry arrangements. My mind starts to posture into how warm and antique this image feels. My eyes well up with tears as I hear birds sing and trees sway.
A story of my development through mindfulness and what it looks like as an adult.
Wanmin Zhang Mar 3
I felt very dishonest and detached
When I was sitting in a circle at group therapy
And it was my turn to speak
I loudly proclaimed, "Suicide is not the solution."
And everybody clapped.
They thought that I had made a revelation
That I must have regretted taking all those pills
But it's been years and I still think about dying
I could hardly breathe
Gasping desperately for truth.
My naked soul stood trembling,
Beaten & bruised.
My heart lays there in pieces.
In such a vulnerable state.
I stare out into the world,
Do loving people still exist?
Searching for answers.
I stumbled upon some angels.
Love, patience, kindness.
Those were the angels characteristics.
I got to feel understood & loved.
Ointment put unto my wounds.
Directed through the mystery of love.
Am I prone to misery though?
Misery somehow finds me wherever I go.
People throw these little arrows at my heart.
I try to shield myself but I'm much too weak.
There's all these holes and scars on my soul.
Too tired to speak up anymore.
The sadness in the silence interrupts my peace.
I'm gasping for truth that I fear I will never find.
I've been in therapy for the last year dealing with my childhood sexual abuse & eating disorder. Therapists and other mental health providers have been like angels to me. The pain & misery seems to keep finding me. Tired of the long journey. So much beauty in one human being helping another. Don't give up, rest.
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