A rush I used to feel, stress that seemed much too real
On this time I look with nostalgia, but from a rerun I may not salvage

Sleep always escaped me, an hour here and there how great that would be
But my greatest enemy perhaps - loss of control would cause a relapse

On rising I was oft unsure whether my thoughts were pure
Ready to fight, I felt I’d been up all night

My body is white and shakes with terror,
The effects of adrenaline caused by fear, countless times in the first year

My members swing as if to fight, acting as if they’re in fright
In addition to this, my tics are amiss

My vision is foggy and gray; I guess I can see halfway
And the edges seem dim, so in this misty night I remain; this is nothing to disdain

Thoughts which are surely not mine, images race with speedy pace
They clearly have no logic, I wonder if this result is neurologic

Sudden terror I feel, but alone I am and this alarm is not real
My sanity I check, glad I did before I hit the deck

My insides churn and swirl, I almost want to hurl
Soft and tender I am inside, it wants to come out the other side

My limbs I sometimes feel; if not lost, then here and seem unreal
Surely they are not mine; they haven’t felt like this since I had a child’s mind

Perhaps from my body I’ll detach, and float up here holding for a rematch
A chance to process what’s happening down there I guess, this is such a mess

Always on alert, with blind death I will not flirt
You’ll never stand behind me, this is my new reality

I know you’re real, but an orchestra I now sense; your legitimacy is concealed
This weird world appears strange to me, a lot smaller than it used to be

Oft I feel generally ill, I fear that **** me this great general will
A day or two sick they say is normal, but after a year or two this became my normal

They say exercise is good for the heart, but I think palpating like this is not smart
Sitting here still, now at a hundred and fifty – on its final race it may be

In circles I tend to walk, my bearing I’m trying to clock
Wobbly I stand with my head in my hands; I must look like an oddity

My thoughts drifted to life and death, what was more serious than breath?
Life I must content to preserve and defend, what is more basic to comprehend?

More than daily I faced my God, on the brink of death I thought
Powerlessly mortal I always felt, now immortal I tend to feel

Pleasant memories from this time are few; I wonder if I even get déjà vu?
Of this time I have little sense, was this for my defense?

If you wonder what good came of this, look to God without whom I’d be in the abyss
And that’s not all: accepting death repeatedly, to face the enemy I am free

Intensity of this degree I may never enjoy again; to wish for this I feel I am crazy
This is broken, can’t you see? A prisoner who doesn’t want to be set free!

A life filled with adventure took its toll, always testing my heart and soul
On the other side I am now, fighting boredom and that event – but in a way, I feel dead anyhow

I looked at the time, it was seven o'clock,
we were having a party and I was in my best frock.
We were partying away - my friends and I -
dancing around in the moonlit sky.

Drinking away I was starting to feel funny,
when my friend Harry said to me "come in, honey".
Drunk, I followed - I trusted him dearly.
He was going to look after me, I could see it clearly.

But soon I found out that he actually wanted me,
and as he got on top of me, darkness was all I could see.
He lifted up my dress and pulled down my knickers,
and as he did what he had to do, all I could taste in my mouth were liquors.

I told him "no" and told him to stop fiercely,
but instead he carried on and laughed in my ear harshly.
He ****** himself deeper inside,
as he chose to ignore my cries.

I couldn't push him off, he was too heavy,
all colour drained from my face and I began to feel empty.
He was high on drugs and alcohol fuelled,
and he carried on throughout the night until he was fulfilled.

The next day I woke up ****** and feeling *****,
I was covered in bruises and I was full of worry.
My lipstick was smeared and my hair full of knots,
and on my body there were scratches - lots and lots.

Now I'm sitting here three months on,
I've been dealing with this pain alone for far too long.
I swallow the hundreds of pills I've saved up,
and wash them down with alcohol from the drinking cup.

Brought upto emotions,
                          I did a blunder,
Costing my life,
                        Drowning every second,
Brought me to live up in fake,
                        Helpless I became
They are loving it,
                        I did a blunder,
My mouth speak there words,
                       Sinking to sea,
The night came,
                      I'm still in the same,
Traumatic I became,
                     Closing the life affair!

I have bad dreams.

They come, unbidden, into my room at night.

They pass through the maze of my alcoholic daze;

They take me back,

Back to a dusty desert road;

Our convoy is headed towards Mosul.

But we never make it there:

The Humvee is upended by an eardrum shattering blast.

I am falling.

I see you are screaming but there is no sound..

Blackness.

I died three times on the medivac copter

But the Corpsman kept bringing me back.

I have bad dreams

In them I see the faces of the dead,

They are the faces of my friends;

My friends, for whom I mourn

Until this heart becomes a stone.

I used to have a depressed bipolar and strange step dad
I have nothing against depression or bipolar and strange people
But this guy made me hate humanity

He was munipulative and agressive

He would beat us and then tell my mum it was an accident

We were only 4-9 years old, we weren't going to speak up.

The thing that gets me is that he managed to get my mother to love him so much, that no matter what he did
She would believe his lies

She would choose him over us

I actually hated her at one stage

But one day we come home and hes gone.
Pills are laying on the bed
Alot of them.
And half of the packages were empty.

My mum freaked
She stayed up all night worrying
And worrying
And worrying
About that *******

When finally at four in the morning
One of her calls is finally answered by his phone
Its a woman that answers
She says "hello"
"Oh uh okay, let me get him for you."
"Baby theres someone on the phone for you"

My mum hangs up before she talks to him..
The ******* **** faked his own death to run away with another woman


And if I ever see him again
Id be glad to beat the **** out of him

My mum was like pretty upset for a year but moved on after that
It was hard for her
It was hard for everyone

But Im pretty glad hes out of our lives now.

Hands like guillotines
sever ties
flee fleeting moments
of traumatic scenes
and gay parades
on ink-stained clouds
blushing like mushrooms
tinted by the sun.