#diagnosis
"LOVE IS MERELY A MADNESS"
SO HAND ME MY PILLS,
PASS ME THE HOSPITAL GOWN,
I'VE GONE MAD FOR YOU,
THEY CALL IT LOVE
I'LL CALL IT WHAT IT IS:
DERANGEMENT.
INSANITY.
ADDICTION.
LUNACY.
PASS ME MY PILLS,
BEFORE MY HEART IMPLODES,
I THINK WITH ONLY MY SOUL,
I BLEED AND WAIL ALONE
ITS MERELY MADNESS,
NO LESS I SAY,
END THIS LOVE-
AND YOU'LL END ME,
SEND ME TO REHAB,
I NEED A BREAK,
THE WITHDRAWALS ARE ENDING ME.
Dec 27, 2025
Dec 27, 2025 at 3:19 AM UTC
I'm laying here on my bed
With loads of things to do in my head
I could clear my table of the clutter
Make some space
For somewhere to eat bread and butter.
I could be making a hat from knitting
One of the most relaxing times
I'll always be admitting
I could be in my living room singing
The neighbors ears and mine included
would start Ringing
I could be typing up poems for my book
To which moving to the computer
It's like I feel stuck
I want to do these things I really do.
It's so hard to understand why can't i do things other people can do
Aug 4, 2025
Aug 4, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
Everything hurts.
My face scrunching up as the tears burst out of me
The lump in my throat that prevents me from speaking
The thoughts I'm forced to face now that feel never ending.
No one thinks the unbelievable will happen,
Until it simply does.
and the responses I have in the moment-
make me feel incredibly ****** up.
Shock is more numbing than the walk in freezer at work.
It's as if I were reading anything, not her actual words.
I don't know who to blame,
or maybe I do- but that feels worse.
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 7:00 PM UTC
I waver within my waveform’s depth,
A flicker lost in their measured sight.
They've named my lapse, a sound minds death,
When I witness all darkness bend into light.
A mirror stands between my thoughts,
it splits, refracts, then realigns.
So, they call me fractured, I'm just overwrought,
When I study existence expanding in time.
My tethered shinning of shattered hues,
Paid observers stare blindly to tell.
They label my state. They say they're "breaking through",
Not keen to the fact our perceptions do fail.
My essence flickers, I'm framed in their glass,
A particle, turned quantum wave, now undone.
Charting my patterns, they look down as they pass.
As I know, every wave will collapse into one.
The observers, they write their same repeated script,
Equations in ink are reducing my place.
But I'm more than their words can ever depict,
A paradox they know, their own minds could not trace.
So...
With your ink's certainty, tell which of us is "off"?
Who truly knows this pleromatic-scape for how it's meant?
Explain how the quantum can tell lies in its flux.
Say I drift and dissolve? KNOW, I'm standing unbent.
There stands a "scholar," A pen pushing bot.
For their status. For their wealth in a check at week's ends.
I'm a wave that was created by divine creative forces,
With a rare mind born from divine, purposeful accidents.
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 4:32 PM UTC
Do you think we’re the sort of girls to sit around on a Sunday night?
EAH (loud buzzer sound) you’d be wrong!!
What’s the opposite of seasonal depression - seasonal euphoria?
I’m self-diagnosing here, but I think I’ve got it.
I have all the symptoms:
Excessive happiness: a level of joy statistically improbable.
Compulsive smiling: grinning under the most mundane circumstances.
Irrational optimism: the feeling everything will turn out all right.
Compulsive socializing: relentlessly engaging in parties and outings.
Impulsive behavior: capricious decisions that lead to.. stuff.
Difficulty focusing: trouble concentrating on ‘serious subjects.’
Increased appetites: A craving for.. everything fun.
I have to call it. The symptoms are limpid, my diagnosis is:
Summer, seasonal euphoria, and it feels pretty good.
.
.
Songs for this:
Rooftop by Kelly Jones
The Game of Love by Katrina & the Waves
DeadBeat Club by The B-52s
Jul 16, 2024
Jul 16, 2024 at 8:53 PM UTC
I never noticed before
Just how much I like control.
Structure, routine.
These things keep me grounded.
I was always made to go with the flow;
The rules, never my own.
When I flip the pages and read my thoughts
I notice I never liked being torn away from focus.
I loved to sit and work on my passions,
Never cringing at myself for being interested.
I think I learned to dislike my interests
Because others didn't and that was cringe to them.
I was made to follow but told to be a leader,
I'll never know which is better or why.
I don't understand the logic or matter,
Can't everyone decide what's important?
For my parents it was tradition,
What was taught to them
and likely the people before,
The question is where does blame lie?
I would be ripped away from creativity,
To be forced to finish my plate and more,
Promised desserts I never received,
To instead dissociate and remain unfree.
I think this was so damaging to me.
My mom took me back through her thoughts,
Shared stories of how troublesome I was,
She said I always had issues
with being torn away from my tasks.
Tells me it wasn't serious,
But she and others beat my ***
I have to wonder how I felt then.
I was only three and hurt so often.
I decided to skip the yelling eventually,
I'd go to the corner for thinking differently.
Until I would turn and say okay to my mom,
Who'd laugh at me for being upset.
It's interesting how she doesn't see it.
I have always had a hard time with transitions,
Child, teenager, adult, it's been hard.
And I am going to learn why.
Oct 20, 2023
Oct 20, 2023 at 12:40 PM UTC
I have bawled and shouted
stamped my feet
blamed God my mother
AND the universe
but I'm still here
spoilt petulant little spec
on a blue green planet
infinity never heard me
or gave a ****
about a small ape like creature
spinning around
and around
at a thousand miles an hour
going nowhere
it's time to take
the bitter little pill
and just get on with it
Jun 22, 2023
Jun 22, 2023 at 1:22 PM UTC
they take my blood for their machines
to analyse
the very heart of me
laid bare to scrutiny
a diagnosis
of an ill I never realised
I needed a prescription for
just to survive
so nice of them
to save my life
but I feel fine
May 12, 2023
May 12, 2023 at 12:56 PM UTC
Sometimes you won’t be, oftentimes you will
see spots and feel lost. If they persist make yourself
an appointment with a quiet man with unremitting sentences
and cold fingers which will explore new fears, fresh cul-de-sacs
leading to excision by a woman with a practiced smile,
knife-thin latex and a distance
that prevents inappropriate contact.
Sometimes you won’t be, one day you will
and meanwhile you find a new lump -
don’t wait, make an appointment
with the quiet man and he may say something
you won’t hear above the screams swallowed by old nausea.
Sometimes you won’t be, one day you will
and meanwhile you let regret rise
and tell your daughter all the too lates
that wait unopened.
And one day you will.
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 2:49 AM UTC
It's genetics,
and it's
environment.
It's meningitis, glandular fever
and the novel coronavirus.
It's bad habits catching up
with me.
It's poison dust and GM foods
and leaded petrol.
It's stress-induced.
It's karmic irony.
It's my sense of foreshortened future
made manifest.
It's a new way of self-harming
on a cellular level.
It's punishment from a god
I don't believe in.
It's the universe replying it
doesn't care.
It's
dumb
*******
luck.
There's a million different
(equally plausible, equally irrelevant)
reasons.
None of them change anything.
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 5:50 AM UTC
At 7 years old, I told my mother,
"You're not my real mom.
You're my Earth mom,
And at night when I'm asleep,
I go back to my home planet."
As the years sped onwards,
I conceptualized myself as a three headed alien,
A Poet From Another Planet,
Acutely aware of my innate differences.
No explanation had I other than being extraterrestrial.
Those around me, too, seemed to sense I was "other."
Playground insults supported by adults who floated labels like
"Lazy," "Difficult," "Rude," "Deliberately Obtuse"
Over my head as if they were a crown,
Signifying I was queen of kingdom "Unlike Us."
No one looked deeper at the poor social skills ,
The rigidity, sensory difficulties, challenges with executive dysfunction.
It was easier to pretend I was in control,
Choosing the route of difficulty and belittlement.
It was only after I nearly succeeded in killing myself
That someone assembled the whole picture.
My story is not unique among women
Born into bodies and brains whose operating system is Autism.
We are the forgotten, the alienated, and plastered with assumptions,
Lost under the blind eye of those who spin tall tales of
"Only straight, white little boys can possibly be autistic!"
Generations of autistic women have known not a name for their difference,
Bogged down under self-loathing, eating disorders, and suicides,
Anything to cope with a world designed to break them
For the differences everyone noticed but no one could see.
Now that women are finally coming onto the scene,
A subtle shift in the awareness that the clinicians, teachers, doctors
Were missing a whole population of autistic people,
Answers are gate kept behind assessments that are thousands of dollars
And diagnosticians who've yet to see the error of their ways.
Peace of mind seems to be a right only of white autistic men
Who are lucky enough to have the "profile" of autism modeled after them.
It took 19 years, two suicide attempts, including 10 days in a coma
For someone to finally "see me,"
And I'm one of the lucky ones.
Answers were finally mine,
But understanding one's own brain should be a human right.
I think we can all agree:
The price of a diagnosis should not be your life.
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:39 PM UTC
I know why I was running as fast as I could
I know why I still felt as though I wasn’t good
When everyone else understood what was said
While I was thinking what’s wrong with my head
The signs were all there
I wish I had known
I wish I had seen them
Each time they had shown
No I am not lazy
Nor am I dumb
I am not broken
And there’s no need to run.
Yes I still need them
To speak to me different,
I need things explained to me
Slowly, just need a second
My brain works differently
And I sense more than most
I hear the electricity
Louder than your voice when you talk
There’s no race that I’m running
So I can’t be behind
I do things my own way
that works for my mind
I’m different than them
But that’s nothing wrong
I’ve learned a lot about me
And who I’ve been all along
I am at peace now
I know where I belong
I’ve found others just like me
I’m not helpless after all
I am just me
And you are just you
And we are both different
Your needs are special too.
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 9:44 PM UTC
I want to recover.
I want to open up in therapy
and take my medication like I should.
I want to feel again.
I want this numbness to end.
I want to, I do.
but for that to happen,
my disorders and diagnoses
would have to go away.
I would be left to face
the real world all on my own.
this safe world that my disorders
have built around me would be gone.
I would no longer feel so
disconnected from my body.
I would no longer feel so
disconnected from the world around me.
my disorders would leave me.
I can’t lose any more friends.
I’m still hurt from those endings
that I never saw coming
and whether I like it or not,
these disorder are my best friends.
I can’t lose them yet.
I’m not strong enough.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 8:17 AM UTC
I don't have a personality
I have a diagnosis.
I am not 'very- '
I'm 'hyper- '
I'm not 'bad at'
I'm 'exhibiting dysfunction'.
I'm not forgetful
it's time blindness
I'm not clever
it's hyperfixation
I'm not active
it's stimming
I'm not shy
it's anxiety.
I have a cluster of conditions
balled up in my chest
instead of a heart.
I don't have a brain
I have a doctor's hand behind my eyes
navigating me through the world.
I'm empty without my suffering.
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 1:07 PM UTC
Disorder
The word still echoes in my head
Surreal and complicated
Such a heavy word
Even though it's been almost a year
Since things were so bad
And I heard the words:
Anxiety Disorder
Eating Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Followed by the words:
Depression
Phobia
Medication
Each one like a lightning strike
I can feel them in my veins
But the most frightening
Was hearing the prefix:
Severe
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
Special is the word they use when they talk about me
They assume that my diagnosis fully defines me
Sometimes I wish I could only be heard and not seen
That’s what I often think about when I daydream
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 7:01 PM UTC
Go away
I'm chemically unstable
There's no way
Now that we ever will be able
To be considered me
Truely alright, fine, good, normal
Medicine ungiven
Diagnosis wishing
Why others wouldn't listen?
Because they're talking flesh
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
We cried
when you were diagnosed
She cried
when you stopped eating
He cried
when you cut yourself
They cried
when you ran away
You cried
when you lost your home
I cried
when you lost yourself.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
Let me just hit this real quick, and I've got a question to ask you.
What the hell am I doing with my life?
I've seen a quarter century
easily fly by my head, right past my eyes. Credentials fill the whole of a short list, shorthand black ink on coffee stained white napkins. Got a paycheck, pay rent, I'm okay, then. Name it, it's likely I haven't done it. The thing is, I'm short on hobbies, too. When you got holes in your pockets, watch the pennies dropping. What's a penny for a little get-high? What's a penny for the internet when I don't have a vehicle? I couldn't pay for cheap unleaded. I pay for my shows and drink the TV. Deadbolt my door and get to thinking. Maybe it's all right if I imbibe just a little more. Maybe a few short words arranged in a line, will kiss the void if written right. Correctly.
The ground
Is burned
Rolls away
Life
Is short
So blaze
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
I see you look the other way
forbearing a feigned sigh
feeling the restrained ache
amidst
a myopic casual glance
from the corner
of your eyes
so beautiful ― oh so beautiful
so afraid the sun might
catch you crying
hearing the silent refrain echo
like hindsight in a box of tears
abetting an awkward growing distance
manifest
reality weighted
gravity
pushing down stronger
pacing the cage
door
swung open
with nowhere left to go
Its not just a dead end
crossroads
in the wake of some aftermath
a portal passed
through
long ago
where mazy shadows
linger like memories
of someone
you used to know
come rain or come shine
falling leaves
return to the roots
like teardrops return to your heart
love is stronger than death
and...,
there's no such thing as fair
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC