Do I escape here
To my cave
My therapist
My priest
An ear
Does anyone hear
Listen
Care

Is it just minutia
word that gets moved around the page
like dust bunnies swirling in the noonday sun
why do I want you to know what goes on in here
inside this cerebral mass
why do I want you to witness the excising of my existence
the vomiting
purging
lancing of these boils
the expressing of anal glands
emptying the dark places
only to fill them up again

I have always wanted to write down my feelings
what I see......emphasis on “I”
I always have felt that I see it differently than you
Not egotistically speaking,
but that I see it the way this mass of cells called Larry sees it

Hello
It is me in here
The one speaking to you now
And if you are reading this
Thank you for listening

I arose early......this is what you get.
Skylar 1d

What does it mean
to be better
First I smiled
then I sighed
Back then I asked myself
Does better feel like what I feel now?

Numb

The answer is no
I fell back into old ways
Wanting to get better
I had nothing to aim for
Still as clueless as before about what is meant

I look in the mirror
and laugh
Still clueless

Have I gotten better?
No
I've gotten worse

Now
I'm more clueless
Do I want to get better?

Good question

The grey dawn refuses to ease its grip
on another damp Autumn day
weather can reflect moods
an unintended consequence
of ingrained fears
developed from concealed
nascent childhood trauma

As afternoon takes the reins
from a mournful morning
so shafts of brightness
illuminate the airy dwelling
compassionate mind therapy
appears clearer to practice
life's baggage is silenced for now

My aim is not necessarily to people please but perhaps to provoke thought

Maybe this is where I truly start living,
maybe it’s here I’m awaken. 
Maybe this is where my burdens are taken 
by something greater that sees that I’m tired,
and the demons inside me will leave me inspired. 

Maybe this is when I truly start growing, 
my naked soul will finally be showing. 

So firmly I stand, and deeply inhale, 
never again stepping back on the scale. 

Maybe it’s now, right here, that I see; 
it is my soul, not my body, that should drop to its knee. 
Because it’s our souls, not only bodies, that should be connected, 
without any worry of what is expected. 

So firmly I stand, sigh and breathe in, 
realising not loving myself is my only sin. 

Maybe this is where I truly start living,
maybe it’s here I’m awaken. 
Maybe it’s here my doubts will be shaken,
to the ground where I will leave them forever,
consciously choosing to always endeavour.

anon 5d

find my poems
in a hundred years
and analyze them
as though they are written
in a foreign language
from a foreign time
full of foreign ideas
and words

analyze the way i say
i'm sad

"the darkness outside
spills into my empty room
on a body
wracked with sorrow
but too proud to cry"

analyze the idea
that everything i write
means something else
and i am not just
too lazy for prose

interpret me needing to talk
as me creating allusions

say to my face that when i said

"i'm happy"

it was sarcastic irony that reflected
my inner turmoil

analyze my poem
that is free therapy
to mean something
i wrote just for you

it speaks to you because
my word choice
was simple
every day

it speaks to you because
my alliteration is
totally
on purpose

it speaks to you because
literary terms
speak to you
more than some words
that meant

"i'm sad"

analyze me
and look past my struggles
that don't fit your agenda

analyze me

i am poetry

my soul is poured out
in each of these lines
each letter is me

so analyze me
like one of your french girls

make me beautiful

make me something that is
not
desperate poetry

make me you

fleuroses Oct 14

you don't need therapy
or drugs
what you are in dire need of
is unconditional self love

Seema Oct 13

The pains gone
Tho my heart is torn
Tears have dried
Feelings have died
My eyes shut
Yet you haunt my mind
I will forgive you, but
You're not a deserving kind
Deleted your memories from my phone
Faults were not equally my own
The insanity has creeped up my sleeve
When you called up on new years eve
Same old lies repeating everytime
Like a vivid poem forced to rhyme
Life without you -- I can live on
It's better you stay where you are -- be gone
Wasted enough of my precious moments
See now, am suffering from a prone torment
I will be fine once my mind calms down
A good therapy -- ears blast with sound...


©sim

Evelyn Smith Oct 12

Everything in my life is a constant cycle of dipping my feet into the waters of recovery and falling back into the thicketed woods of trauma.

When things seem to be looking up for me a thunderstorm forms,
I see it hovering above hours after another has just passed.
Meer moments of sunshine and clarity are what I cling to when the downpour begins again.

But lately these storms have been more like hurricanes,
my secure branches are breaking and there is no longer anything for me to hold.
I find myself being swept along a riverbed where the bank is now too far for me to reach.

How long do I have left until I fall over the edge of a waterfall.
How long until I crack my skull, break my bones.
And find my last breathes choked from water.

I never imagined my life to be like this.

My mother calls me a pessimist, my therapist's call me an optimist.
Does anyone know who i truly am?
My mothers eyes glaze over and her lips begin to quiver when once again at 2am I stand stagnant but shaking, confessing over a cigarette that another person has hurt me again.

She doesn't deserve this pain I feed her.
You cannot become full from fear,
you cannot become healthy through abandonment.
My tears only dehydrate her.

My therapists sigh as they write down on clipboards that once again I am not able to find myself a healthy relationship.
My safety warnings raised higher as they know once again will come late nights washing blood stains of my bedsheets and cleaning vomit off the bathroom floor.

Deep in the early hours of the morning I find myself staring up to the sky.
Wondering what I did wrong to deserve the punishment I receive.
No matter how much I squint my eyes the stars never formate me an answer.

So I conclude this hollow, hurtful, fearful life my destiny.
I convince myself that at least if I get hurt, someone else doesn't.

So Take my organs, take my soul, take my flesh and take my bones.
Utilise me for what you need until there is nothing left of me.

I hear the faint rush of the waterfall in the distance.
I smile to myself knowing soon this will all be over.
I wonder how many more times I will be scarred before I cascade over the edge into the plummet below.

If you find this place on trip-adviser I wouldn't recommend going.
It's shit.
Lara Oct 8

When I was 13,
I swallowed a fly.
It was an accident.
I was scared the fly would eat my brains.
So I ran to my mum
and told her I needed a doctor.
She didn't believe me.
And so the fly sucked the blood out of my brains.
And all my feelings became numb.

l.h.

Mims Oct 8

I don't go to therapy,
I watch movies.
some kind of wonderful
pretty in pink
the perks of being a wallflower
heathers
the outsiders
the goonies
These movies are good enough therapy for me.

I watch them all religiously,
These movies have saved me,
Over and over again.

I love movies
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