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pilgrims Feb 17
I feel sick, so sick of myself.
I don't exist: calloused layers of shell.
This world is sick. War is more real than Hell.
Does good love exist? Is it more real than Death?
What will you love when nothing is left?
The soil is poisoned. Seeds freed from cycles.
Purge odious life.
Tears salt the Earth from true peace disciples.
No pain. No struggle. No strife.
Behind the mask there is nothing.
Behind my eyes there is nothing.
Before my eyes there is nothing.
Embracing void. Immortality.
Cannot be destroyed. Empty.
Embrace the truth.
I quit. I quit. I quit pretending.
Pretending I am not everything. At last,
I find annihilation
in you.
Sammi Yamashiro Apr 2021
The mid noon sky bleeds out; it bruises in flames.
Arsonists hold their gassers to my face.
In their grisly field of vision, I am a delectable
vapor, born to flit away.
Regard not the orange cones, nor the caution tapes:
these gates hold little significance to them.

(Then the other 'a-word' comes to mind: anarchists)

Prior to this, they had presented themselves
as chess pieces to fall in love with—little do they know,
I've an animus for them. As stupid as I may appear,
I know it's a game!

Unzipping out of incognito mode, they have unleashed
their razor blade. They whizz their wings.
Here they come, coming for me.

Here I go again: counting sheep,
blinking for one whole eternity.

Oh doctor! I'm in dire need of your vampiric syringe.
Swill my peaking adrenaline— at this rate, I'll go mad.
I shall never recuperate.

Mollify my entirety.
Teach me to rollick like angels do. I beg you.
Dani Apr 2021
Why do you haunt me ghost
Lingering, lurking, and watching your host
Around every joyful corner you linger
From every happy window you watch
And from ever peripheral shadow you lurk
You do not own me
Yet you dangle a key
As if to show my captivity
In chains I am bound
As memories fly around
Nightmare is a better name
For this haunting game
Day lit terrors before my eyes
Sunny momentarily, til you cover the skies
A dark lit confusion
Met with desperation

All the unspoken screams
Still rattle in my head
Fear fills what were once dreams
Panic now owns my bed
A bed I wish to share
With kindness and love
But you lay there and stare
Graff1980 Nov 2020
Instead of being activated
by what you hated
you got isolated,
so you wouldn't be triggered.

There were photos of
human agony on foreign streets,
bombed out buildings,
bleeding children,
and parents weeping.

Instead of getting outraged
by what you saw,
you went to your safe space,
so you wouldn't have to face
any troubling thoughts at all.

People softened the discourse,
slightly dulling the edge of the sword
they use to cut the safety cord
we call human rights.

The bad things kept happening
while you were napping comfortably.

You should have been
an exposed wire
sparking an arc of heart fires.
Instead of highlighting
that which was frightening
you went into hiding.

While those who were fighting
didn't get the option
to ignore the horror.

Busted up and ******,
tear gassed buddies bruised
while you used that excuse
of not wanting to deal with bad news
cause you might get triggered.

The world is on fire so,
melt that snowflake heart sister
and brother
we've got no time to waste
in helping each other;

Look and see these tragedies
and get motivated;
Rise up in outrage,
get ******* triggered,
and get to work son.

Cause anger gets **** done!!
NJ Brown Aug 2020
I'm triggered
It feels like a bullet wound to my head
Like daggers to my chest
I'm stir crazy
I'm all alone
There's a breath on my neck
I'm not even safe at home
arms tighten at my throat and I can't breathe
I'm leaking from arousal
I don't want it but I can't speak
"You're so wet for me"
I don't want to be
I'm triggered
Nobody can love what is tainted
Despite August being women's month, a woman is afraid of being ***** and being a victim caught in the situation, my only prayer was that the ****** spare my life.
Kelsey Jun 2020
Technology is a beating heart
A life that has become an integral part
Of me:

I am the internet,
The apps,
The text messages
That cause collapse

I am the Google searches,
The Amazon purchases,
The single letters
That create these verses

I am the statistic you search for
Of Depression in America.
I am the sad song you play,
When you realize life is an enigma.

Im there when you lay in bed
At 3 in the morning,
And ask Google why it's been years and you still feel like youre in mourning.

I'm the quiz that you take
To test the validity of your sadness.
And the other 5 you take
As you succumb to your own madness

I'm your Facebook friend,
Sharing mental health posts,
About women your age
Writing their suicide notes.

I'm your Instagram feed
You have a smile on your face
But people never read the caption:
"This is the last post I will make"

You can get all you want with just the click of my button
Please dont buy anything that contributes to you being forgotten

You can say anything you want
Within a text
As long as I turn off auto correct,
Because when you say "I've been doing great",
You mean "I'm going to slit my neck".

I'm the to-do list app you download
To feel like your life is together
But my boxes never get checked
Because tomorrow sounds a lot better

I'm the pictures in your phone
To remind you your not alone.
I'm the memo in your technology
Where you write your suicide apologies.

I'm the alarms you never touch
That alert you to start your day.
But when you never turn me on,
Youre just skipping the foreplay.

I'm the email notifications
Spewing the benefits of *******
Because you need something to distract you
From it's negative connotations

I'm the flashlight when you need me because your lamp won't be going on.
Its already 4 in the afternoon,
your bed is now where you belong.

I'm your two way connection
When your boyfriend calls to check on you
He can hear the sadness in your voice
But doesn't know what else to do

I'm the calendar that alerts you
You have an exam next week,
I hate being your YouTube search on the best suicide techniques.

I wish you would reply to the group chat,
They want to meet you at the mall.
Now they're bad mouthing you
Because you don't seem to care at all.

Please, just turn on some music.
I promise that you can choose it
I don't like the words you're typing,
"Death" isn't better in writing

Just stop what you're doing,
And let me bring up your history.
Remember before your dad died,
You were his greatest victory?

I'm the forums and the hotlines
and the encouraging words,
That people all over the world want to be heard.

You can use me as your outlet,
but I won't be your oppression.

It's so easy for technology
To manifest as your depression.
Your technology can tell alot about you and your thoughts and feelings. It can truly manifest as your depression.
the dead bird Jun 2020
If I’m trying to fix myself,
logically speaking,
I should start at the source of the problem.

If hell is just a state of mind,
then demons are my open wounds,
and the devil lives inside certain humans.
He’s usually disguised with a smile,
the perfect words you want to hear,
bearing a trojan horse that looks like trust.

The first time I met the devil,
I was eighteen.
The physical wounds he caused healed fast,
leaving only one small scar.
It was his emotional scythe
that tortured my soul;
with slices that cut deep
and left me wounded.

My demons are the still-gaping wounds
that I thought bandaids could fix.
But I’ve found that substances
don’t silence the demon’s hellish screams -
they only drown out the noise
for a little while.

In order to free myself of these demons,
to escape my own hell,
to fix myself,
to change,
to heal;
I must peel off the bandages,
treat the infection at its source,
and let my wounds breathe.

I guess that means addressing
the emotional pain
that he carved into my soul.
I must process the pain I still feel,
the feelings of shame,
and dehumanization.

Real talk though?

Religious references aside,
fifteen years isn’t enough.
I don’t think any prison sentence -
no matter the length -
could account for the irreversible damage
he caused not only to me,
but also countless other young women and girls.

He doesn’t deserve my words.
But they are not for him.
These words are for me.
legit ramblings, on a mini vacation with my girlfriend  and  he still finds a way to haunt me. I won’t let his poison taint me forever
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2020
Hope the feeling of worthlessness flees my worried frame

Can you make my brain stable?

When you know the security code
Punch into my mental keypad
No other combination of words will silence the alarms of self-loathing blaring within
Ricocheting off the walls of my skull
Echoing each and every flaw exposed in myself

All it takes
One little thing to trip the sensor
And it hurts my whole defense system

You are the one able to disarm my security
And the reason is because you installed it
I had no method of protecting myself before you put me in your perspective
Now when something breaks through defense mechanism
Instead of letting confidence get stolen
Triggered noise helps me block out the negativity and focus on things I do like about myself
Then to revert my day back to normal completely all you have to do is enter the magic passcode with a sweet whisper in my ear
"You're beautiful"
Using a burgular alarm as a metaphor for an emotional defense barrier
Asominate Mar 2020
Looking at your body
I catch feels
It must be so nice
To feel real
“I’m beautiful just as I am”
You figure
Telling me things like these
Get me triggered

Setting goals for myself
In front of the mirror
Seeing my reflection
Checking out my figure
Under 110lbs
Yes to less, no to bigger
Remembering things like these
Always get me triggered
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