#depersonalisation
these aren't my hands
at least they don't feel like they are
I don't recognise my voice
or the name they call me
but I know it's mine
when I touch my leg
the hand feels like someone else's
I dig a hole into my arm
and I feel nothing
the world looks fake
flat, digital
incorrect reflections
correct imperfections
I try to fix it
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 6:31 PM UTC
The mirror shines an echo of reality
a thousand times blurrier than I see.
The white lies praise closure, toxic autobiography,
as wax eyes glaze over, magnetic abnormality.
Painted mouth, a harsh sculpted shape.
Torn plastic hair, a blocked-off escape.
Between the fluorescence and the silver reply
the fruits of my labour or a sordid
fruit fly?
The scars on my shoulders, the spots on my face;
saturated colours polluting the lace.
Rouge tinted balm, a turned sickly ochre,
My elbows together,
shoulders narrower, triangular figure;
carved by an egoist, all angles and fissures.
The moisturiser refuses to sink into my skin,
a tantaliser of trial, on the surface, a swim.
Impenetrable, inaccessible, my hands rip the surface.
A false doll face with a fast fading purpose.
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 5:21 PM UTC
It's a tale as old as time,
Like a fine wine that's aged.
Getting more bitter, rather than sweeter.
I look in the mirror. My reflections stares back at me.
The edges blur and fizzle, waiting to reveal, to see.
The face in the mirror resembles my face, only less clear.
Instead she looks at me, eyes wide with fear.
She snarls her nose, growls and hisses.
I look back, in time, she reminisces.
About the days we would share the same face.
About a time, we lived in the same place.
Now she shouts, WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I scream, she continues to haunt.
Why don't you like me? What's so wrong?
YOU ARE WEAK, I SHOULD BE STRONG.
I look away, count to three.
Ground my feet, think of me.
I am not weak.
I look at her again. I am NOT weak,
I say with a look so bleak.
YOU ARE she judges,
JUST LOOK AT YOU, she begrudges.
I bite my nail, look away again.
I try to hide the pain.
The girl in the reflection laughs and chortles
YOOU ARE FEEBLE, just like all mortals.
I AM NOT! I scream. I AM ME AND WHO ARE YOU TO SAY?
THAT I AM JUST SOMEBODIES PRAY?
But look at you, getting defensive against your own reflection
You could say it's merely a deflection,
Of your self worth
You might as well be a still birth.
You bring no value to this world.
She spits the words, lips curled.
I HATE YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.
OH BOOHOO POOR ME POOR YOU.
I collapse on the floor,
I can't take much more.
What will the next face bring?
I rise from the abyss,
I can barely withstand this.
The next face is kinder.
Another meek body behind her.
Who are you?
I ask askew.
I am you, and you are me.
Let me show you what I can see.
I see a person whose been through a lot.
Every-time they get back up, down they are shot.
I nod cautiously, is this a trick?
Quickly she'll be coming back, I'll be quick.
There's many faces that you can see,
Be it you, us or me.
I understand the torture you hold inside,
Let it go, be free, we want to take your side.
But how? I cry, tears falling of my cheek.
Keep going slowly, week, by week.
I nod slowly, I cry a lot more.
My arms are shaking my throat is sore.
I can't keep fighting, the monster in my mirror.
Every day she keeps coming nearer.
That's okay, you will see.
One of these days you will be me.
And the little girl hiding behind you?
It's another face of you know who.
I shakily nod, and enquire,
Why she's hiding, as if about to transpire.
She's hiding from the face in the mirror.
Just like you, it's becoming clearer.
We don't like what we can see.
I don't like it anymore please believe me.
I know, I know, my reflection says.
But please let it be just a haze.
The girl in the mirror stood before you.
You can choose what she does do.
It's a hard rope to walk, and I walk it well.
I know it's hard, for you to tell,
But you have a choice, a voice, a speech and sound.
It's hard when she's screaming, I feel drowned.
Shush now, it will be alright.
I can't keep fighting this ****** fight.
I feel so tired, exhausted and spent.
I know, I'm sorry but it's time we both went.
I stare at my reflection. She stares back at me.
Eyes brown, hair soft, no expression to see.
She doesn't blink. I don't too.
We are now the only two.
Blankly looking out at me.
Wishing that we both were free.
Who are you? I mouth at her,
She copies me with silence despair.
I don't know and **** my head.
She does too, heavy as lead.
I'm so drained, she echoes my words.
Is she mocking me, like mocking birds.
She scrunches her nose, as do I.
We nod to each other and say good bye.
I avoid the mirror the next day or two.
Hiding from the reflection, keeping out of view.
Mar 6, 2022
Mar 6, 2022 at 2:37 AM UTC
The limp body laid on the floor
Motionless
Fairy lights outlined the cool form
Impossible
To move
The weight too heavy
Crushing
The whole world
the fairy lights are burning
Body and light
Will never touch
And it stings
It already burns
But it cannot warm the body
Different colours
Different brightness
Various behaviour
Glowing
Burning
Blinding
Fading
they will all cease
When time comes
The scene is romantic - the consequence is not
The bright success, expectations
Failure
The failure is in the middle
Nobody talks about its darkness
Lights are the hot topic.
Society
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 5:09 AM UTC
Rain befalls the afternoon like a heavy blanket
A blanket under which I rest
Legs crossed and crossed and crossed
Neck curved as a comma,
The smallest body you have seen
Nothing is mine
My arms, my hands, my head
The water that falls
Lands on nothing that belongs
Nothing is ours
The sky, the ground, the air
Skin becomes wet
Skin and water with no owner
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
Lets squeeze out the juice in my head
Hope your stomach is empty
The cups are ready
When my eyes are awake
My body curls like a shrimp
And my heart is weary
My trust in you and everyone
Has turned to rust
Though, this loneliness
Echos in the vastness
Of this universe
Into another dimension
And this pain
Reverberates inside my flesh
And my brain has a gift
Of making me travel
Out side my body
Its one i am not fond of
Me
I am lost
At dawn
I am gone
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 1:13 PM UTC
What is this feeling
I can't seem to shake?
I know im not dreaming
But i dont feel awake
I look all around me
But nothing feels real
My heart keeps on pounding
it's all i can feel
What is this feeling
that steals all my breath?
Whatever i do
it won't make me fear less
I look at the world
But it's just one big dream
Reality is fading
It's not what it seems
I call out for help
But nobody can hear me
The silence within
Is all that is near me
Im trapped in my mind
with no place to go
this life is an illusion
im all on my own
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:18 PM UTC
You say I am obsessed with myself,
And the way I look.
Point out how I stare at the mirror and focus on every nook
And every cranny of my body.
But I am not obsessed, I just fear I’m going mad
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
I‘m merely mapping out this body I see through this drunk-like haze.
Searching for a sign to tell me “this is you”
To tell me “this is right” and that there’s no mistake.
Pinching myself until I feel something in this dreamlike state.
It’s like a never ending nightmare, from which I
Cannot
Wake.
Staring at the mirror at this body
Which apparently is mine.
No I am not obsessed,
I just think I’m going mad,
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
I am wearing a ***** shirt,
It is crumpled and twice worn before
On days when laughter echoed the halls
Of aorta and vena cava,
But the sound curdled and went stale
As entropy ran through veins,
As my name rang in your ear,
The animosity grew in your cold stare.
I am wearing odd socks.
I haven’t found a partner,
Nor do I understand the use
Of matching two things the same.
If I were in love with the mirror
Then I should just wear one sock,
Let my sock’s noose sink into my supple skin
And slowly cut my ankle.
I haven’t washed my tie
In the entire time I have owned it,
Or the time it has owned me,
I feel the ***** cotton, wrapped
Tight around my neck-
Binding my words,
Suffocating my suffixes,
And the most heavenly of words have bruises…
The whitest of silken beds,
Was marred with blood
Before it was clad in armour,
Now nothing can harm her.
Nothing gets in..
The covers are not warm
And nobody sleeps there.
Less of a bed now,
Thinks defensively, now.
The colour begins to fade.
Ethereal façade
I don’t leave my door open anymore,
Darkness crept in
And I don’t dare let it out.
I have grown fond of the colour,
Or lack of it.
Personal pronouns-
The more I use the word ‘I’,
The less fond I become of it.
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
Sometimes the emptiness is the heaviest
The world feels numb
Like my connection to the world has long been disconnected
Like fingertips sanded away
Nerves sleeping
The only taste in my mouth is of the food eaten yesterday.
I live in a land of suspension
Swimming between worlds that don’t want me
Stuck as a nomad
a child of purgatory
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
My Mind - is not My own.
It is the sleepless nights,
the empty stares,
the half-hearted comments
the quickening breaths.
It is the clouded days,
the fizzling thoughts
the fear that is constant
My Mind - it is not.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 7:08 PM UTC
The the words whizzing around my head,
A swarm of bees around my ears,
So loud I can't think,
I'm sorry what did you say?
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
caio quando fecho os olhos
não sei o acontecerá quando aterrar.
não vejo o fundo deste buraco imenso, mas também não o temo.
aliás, anseio-o.
tenho a cabeça crua.
já não sei se caio para o chão ou do chao,
ou para cima.
posso cair de diversas maneiras e faço-as todas ao mesmo tempo.
sou um só com o buraco ***** que me engole.
talvez até seja eu a engoli-lo.
vou ficar com uma indigestão.
quando penso que vou parar, escorrego mais fundo para o
estômago do vazio e o vazio desce-me pelo esófago.
se fechar os olhos adormeço ou acordo? vou tentar.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
I feel nothing
maybe I feel a cloud that only rains in my presence but
I really feel nothing
Sometimes I see myself
in the googles of someone else who is far
very far,
watching me on a screen
and whenever I start to feel
I can feel someone else overriding
my control of myself
I am pushed to the very backseat
despite calling shotgun.
I feel nothing
except for Zeus' anger
at the ***** of my feet
in the form of volcanic lava
bubbling and toiling
as it overrides the meniscus boundary
but now
I am here
me
I am here
in my car in the driver's seat
I don't have to call shotgun
because my unconscious
yes, mine
my unconscious is all mine
and now,
I have never felt more alive.
But the lava always cools and resides,
despite the internal temperature,
solidifying only to be melted again
and I am where I belong
I am right in the backseat.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
This girl
Is a construct,
Out of a fairytale.
She sounds wonderful,
Charming
Charasmatic to boot.
So, why did she leave?
Alone,
In this shell of a body,
This mask of a face,
And a voice so disjointed.
Out of place
Out of time
Out of memory
Out of love
Out of comfort
Out of hope
Look at all the old photographs,
No one could ever be so happy.
Burn to feel warm
But to no avail.
Myself?
An unreachable host
Look in the mirror
See nothing.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
It's been 6 days since my head filled with the impenetrable fog
6 days since the hands
pulling vinyls from their sleeves to place the needle on top of the grooves to play any distraction available
didn't fit my wrists the right way.
6 days since I made the conscious decision to intoxicate my brain to the point of fuzziness
and now the side-effects that embody the alcohol can't seem to stop coursing through each individual vein and artery
infecting my brain cells with rapid dexterity and a hazy heavy cloud that refuses to clear itself from my eyelids.
It's as if my whole body has been violated by a virus that has spread too quickly to identify and now every last nerve ending has ceased to send messages caused by reactions to tangible foreign bodies belonging to the world
outside my own physicality.
The feet encased inside my shoes are not my own
They no longer help me to stand with ease
or walk without stumbling
I am not here writing this
But my weakening limbs have detached themselves from the rest of me and now there are electronic mechanisms and chemical concoctions doing the job my senses have since given up on.
I am simply not me.
My teeth feel like aggressively inserted slabs of cold enamel constructed without consent behind the pair of lips that are slowly fading every day
These are not my nails scraping against the skin I no longer recognise and feel safe inside.
I feel like I am floating and everything happening around this body is affecting what it is supposed to
But I am the exception.
Every single inch of me is now wrong
Out of place
Unfamiliar and uncomfortable
All the physical feelings are now examined down to the most minuscule fragments
Heightened to the point that they are now extinct in the realm I still try to call "my" brain.
I don't want this.
I don't like this.
I want the substance that is poisoning me to drain itself from my blood
Something that now seems impossible to do.
A constant state of surreality in a more literal sense than I could have ever anticipated.
I didn't mean for this to happen.
I will never be able to identify what it was that flipped the switch labelled:
"depersonalise"
I can only make mere guesses and vague estimations as to how much longer I will have to spend inside the physical manifestation of a body from which my title of "proud owner" has been stripped.
It still comes back sometimes
In ebbs and faltering waves.
I move my hand to relieve an itch
Or follow more tablets
with a swallow of water
And for a second
it doesn't pass through my throat
my fingernails miss the bridge of my nose
my hands detach
I float without meaning to
6 days since the haze appeared
I guess I'll keep counting
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
*She stares at me,
Her eyes seem to search mine.
Her hands stretch towards the division,
Towards that finely marked glass line.
She seems to whisper something,
Sayings too faint to hear.
Yet her lips move with such passion,
As though her utterances are very dear.
I take a step back & stare,
At the being before my eyes.
Torn robes & mangled hair,
And scarred hands to my surprise.
I try to draw close,
Yet I cannot seem to reach.
It's as though a barrier lies between us,
One that I cannot breach.
I looked with more intent,
But the less I saw instead.
Yet in her eyes I could discern,
Something that filled me with dread.
Then suddenly it hit me
From out of nowhere
And like an unraveled mystery
All became clear.
For in my curiosity
And my desire for close inspection
I had failed to see
I was staring at my own reflection
#BlueRain
2016*
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
she never said a word
the silence was her loudest scream
but it couldn't be heard
is this life or just a dream
am i here and is this real
it isn't like it seemed to be
-this world might be just not for me
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Philosophical epistemology strumming adventures
Albeit, coherent mental decoding stratifications structured
Supposedly our world rests in our minds, revolving knowledge
An entwine of conceptual abstract flowing within oneself
The mind in the “I” the “I” a reality lived in my experiences
George of Leontini, a mine mind approving solipsism exploring innatism
Imaginative insights that nothing exists, the secrets secreting secrets
The knowledge behind the veils that remains un-communicated
A reverse of normality and known existences, moral disposition
Hypothesis of depersonalizations, adventures of self internalization
Justifications for what lies outside the Medulla Oblongata
Skepticism and just alternatives to western philosophy
Subjective unapproved experiences only robust in one’s mind
Descartes abstraction of inner experiences, reciprocated paradigm
Intuitively, perceived lived formulations of "Cogito Ergo Sum"
Psychological conscious undoubted individualistic thoughts
Berkley explored perspectives that physicality is an embodiment of the mind
The mind a decoding visualizer, that encompass the non-existent
An idealism marriage of ‘metaphysical’ and epistemological philosophy
The intense esoteric “dualism” verses the fiery “monism” reality
Mind boggling differentiated truths bleeding with blinking unresolvable hypothesis
The jiggered methodological, streamlining the un -logic sequential beats
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
SCREAM
SCREAM
SCARE AWAY THE SILENCE
CONCRETE QUIET
THRUMMING
STRANGLING
STIFLING
CHO-
KIN
G
I CAN'T BREATHE
oh god
1...
breathe
2...
relax
3...
nothing feels real
i can't see ...
shrink back
i'm shaking...
blink
become
human
again
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC