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#dysthymia
The hollow and empty "I love you's" are poison, are killing me slowly. Burning my empathy and hope to the ground behind my eyes without a sound just ashes and ice in my soul.
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Feb 21, 2022
Feb 21, 2022 at 6:14 PM UTC
Hollow
I have come to find when I deviate from my muse of melancholy I revile my work more and more. Perhaps because, inside, the darkness and emptiness is a part of every part of me. And pretending, is not in my nature.
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Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 7:06 PM UTC
These Days Pt. 7
Depression hit like a train. a jolt. derailed. blackness. No Survivors
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Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
No Survivors
Always listen to your body, But don’t always trust the mind. your flesh and bones want happiness, Your brain won’t be so kind.
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Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
Body and Brain
I decided to hold on For one more day. But even still, weeks later, My thoughts won’t go away.
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Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
Hold On
I’ve been depressed all week But she‘s been too. She shares her coping methods And she’s praised and supported. I share mine and I get a single “Nice.” I’m the one willing to take bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To make sure I haven’t drowned While lifting others so they can breathe. At this point it’s not even them. I’m force-feeding words into their mouths As I watch them go about their lives. I know that They’re busy. They’re tired. They’re taking a personal day. They’re working on themselves. And I understand that. But whenever I’m busy, I’m tired, I’m taking a personal day, Or I’m working on myself, I’m there at the drop of a hat. I’m the one taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes To realize that maybe, just maybe I need help too. Irrelevant. The delayed introduction after the “How have you beens?” “Fine and yous?” “I’ve been great, I have this story...” Minutes pass before I’m even thought of, And by then I’ve excused myself. I’m the one that’s taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes. I’m taking you out and bringing you in But I can only take so much. I’m so desperate to be important to someone That I don’t know how to be important to myself. Even the saying of “one is sliver and one is gold” Is unintentionally excluding. I’m surrounded friends and their golds But there are so many golds there’s not room for bronze. I’m the one taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes To realize that I give more than I take And that I’ve given away my soul. A sick feeling in my stomach, But if I bring it up, I know you’ll have it worse. So I swallow my bile And stretch out a smile. I’m the one taking bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To see that I’ve made it out Of the burning building too. I’ve laid myself out as a doormat. So why do I complain when people wipe their feet? I’m the one taking bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To see that I am Broken.
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Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:15 AM UTC
Taking Bullets
I’ve been depressed all week But she‘s been too. She shares her coping methods And she’s praised and supported. I share mine and I get a single “Nice.” I’m the one willing to take bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To make sure I haven’t drowned While lifting others so they can breathe. At this point it’s not even them. I’m force-feeding words into their mouths As I watch them go about their lives. I know that They’re busy. They’re tired. They’re taking a personal day. They’re working on themselves. And I understand that. But whenever I’m busy, I’m tired, I’m taking a personal day, Or I’m working on myself, I’m there at the drop of a hat. I’m the one taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes To realize that maybe, just maybe I need help too. Irrelevant. The delayed introduction after the “How have you beens?” “Fine and yous?” “I’ve been great, I have this story...” Minutes pass before I’m even thought of, And by then I’ve excused myself. I’m the one that’s taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes. I’m taking you out and bringing you in But I can only take so much. I’m so desperate to be important to someone That I don’t know how to be important to myself. Even the saying of “one is sliver and one is gold” Is unintentionally excluding. I’m surrounded friends and their golds But there are so many golds there’s not room for bronze. I’m the one taking bullets For those that can’t take five minutes To realize that I give more than I take And that I’ve given away my soul. A sick feeling in my stomach, But if I bring it up, I know you’ll have it worse. So I swallow my bile And stretch out a smile. I’m the one taking bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To see that I’ve made it out Of the burning building too. I’ve laid myself out as a doormat. So why do I complain when people wipe their feet? I’m the one taking bullets For those who can’t take five minutes To see that I am Broken.
Continue reading...
65
I just want to stop Being sad. I’m the happiest I’ve been for years But it still is not happiness. “Happy” is not The right word Because I’m only ever sad, And not. So when I say “I just want to stop,” I really mean I want to Start Being happy.
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Not Sad
A girl is standing on a ledge. A stale breath of air on the back of her neck Urges her to step forward. She turns, but no one is there But the sky. A girl is sitting in the bathroom, All but ripping and shredding her flesh to bits. A chuckle from the drain As water and red gurgles, Gurgles away. A girl is laying in bed, The creaks and moaning whines from the house Echo loudly in her ears. “What would happen,” it asks, “if you broke through the glass And leapt out the window?” A girl is followed, Footsteps in time with her own, Chased and haunted by every feeling, sound, and thought. It seems the spirits have her too, Because she still continues to smile.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Haunted
I remember long ago I used to thirst for life; Never did I worry about ticking time or strife. Now I see before me, sweet life I used to devour. I take a reluctant sip but now all I taste is sour.
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Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Sour
A bridge broken from one side to another. A telephone wire cut. Something's wrong inside my head. The thing is, I don't know just what. Chirping alarms Whirring fans Smoky smells Red. Blinking. Lights. A robot whose been programmed wrong, An exposed sparking wire. The buttons don't click all the way. Hazardous, watch for fire. Danger Danger Danger Do not approach This automatic switch is supposed to make me excited This one makes a genuine smile. Nobody notices, though, that I'm on manual control And have been for a while. Overheating Overworking Overdoing Over Electricity and buttons and wires Do not mix well with water, I think. But because I'm in desperate need of repair I'm in constant thirst for a drink. "Should have bought that extended warranty." "Did you turn it off and on again?" No. No. Because it's broken. Hard drive shorting Lights are blinking And I'm thinking My last thoughts exporting Crackling Clicking Clattering Clanking Clunking The only thing that works well anymore Is the part that goes through the motions. Perseverance is my constant notion As I burn myself out on the shore. It's hot to the touch. Back off. Soon, it might Explode
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Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
Malfunction
Don’t be afraid to take a big step, you can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps. David Lloyd George Chasm The definition of chasm can come in two forms 1. A deep fissure in the earth, rock, or another surface. 2. A profound difference between people, viewpoints, feelings, etc. Taking a big step is needed to cross both. To get over both and fetch for sanity. To reach for the furthest branch To take the leap To jump and release. Plummet towards the earth. Lose all sense of reality Master containing hope. Just don’t let go of that rope. Dangling from the tree of life Channeling the strength to fight No other human in sight. Hindered by the gift of design. Hindered by the thought of this lie. Desperate to forge tonight Hold my body up to the light. This law we cant defy.   Is this all we’re willing to try?
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Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
Untitled
In front of a silky white chair, An aura of complete despair, We try to contrast and compare, This monochromatic nightmare. I stand before this noose I dare, To loop my neck and mark a tear, On my skin that is not so fair, A bright red strip exposed and bare. I try to jump without a care, The chair and rope comes in a pair, Yet I loosened it with a swear, I need to live... a life unfair.
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
"A Noose or A Leash?"
A long day of forced, faked smiles But you can't see behind a computer screen... Just my bitter words. Words I've now said Which could lay us to rest Because I can't say I'm feeling insecure, Just in a bad place. Breaking down on either end. Distance holding us back from those three words Which I've never said to anyone but you. Now what do I regret? Why does this always get the better of me? Tear me down till I lose everything I've ever held close Because "you're a worthless failure" haunts me, Tortures me till I stop in my tracks... Numb... because I can't say I'm really not okay!
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Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 8:43 PM UTC
Words that could lay us to rest
I never lost my virginity At the age of 19 To a boy who promised That it will not hurt I never bled I never bit my lips I never cried I never slept with a writer, Musician, chemist, An engineer or even a ********* I never tried a pregnancy test kit I am not scared Of those two red lines I never loved my best friend Or those strangers Who painfully ripped my body I love those stains Of a long forgotten past Embedded on crumpled sheets I was never molested When I was 5 or so It was just a game I never cursed that night I never hated my brother I want men to crave for me I never wanted their affection I don’t want to ******* **** them On streets in the middle of the night With cat calls I am not depressed I love my scars I never took ****** Just to sleep at night Or wept in the middle of nowhere I am a strong woman I am not damaged I ******* hate this life It’s too beautiful for someone like me This is not a poem Of a broken girl I am okay. I wanna live. I am not a liar. A happy girl Wrote this Waiting for her prince charming To free this damsel in distress From the tower of anguish And to live happily ever after
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
Never Have I Ever
hold up a mirror, say what you said cracks, in the furor, when there was three of you and one of me, you came at me from all sides and not one of them was "on my" side, world is wide ocean is deep, you have too much pride you are a known creep, you are all over the details sink to a new low, say hello to the great whales, as they are sounding to be louder than you oh let me sink into that deep blue, I will play chess all the way to the bottom, and when I land it will be lunar, see, it will be telling, sea, because the bottom of the ocean, the sea, the gulf, the lake, the puddle, already know, my weakness, my muddle, they are looking for yours, I warned them you were here, "Code Name Dysthymia, dear."
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
"Code Name Dysthymia"
the suns rays stray bent in an array no diffusing the display few shy away from ultraviolet play skin tones grow red, hair lighter on the head, start and finish colours bled, the corpse moves again instead The distance from point to point, the distance from oil to anoint the distance from toking that first joint,    end result was to be broken legs, if the male parent I did disappoint, Think can become will, with stones of little steps, A person of another country, is it possible to annex, Dreamer, truth, no track record of success, the convex Reflection of the sun, disperses all light Leaves the fool in the dark Pound sand, tasting salty tears no anger here, for tonight the son ... has faded
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
The Distance
two eyes, blank stare, glazed glasses, be aware, of numbness, of nothing... must be ice, no, too nice, trace a finger, cold can burn, as much as fire, so can desire, if ... can one see beyond, beyond the flesh, find inspired fuel, or a be the fool, stand before the muse transparent, transported, just by moving frosbit lips, against the willing warmth, of acceptance, yet where be the muse, yet let there be  amuse- ment, because this ice is seriously, frozen to this heart. No light moments, may laughter, shatter the cast cold and surely, refusing to be released, it is not the fingers that need to write but the block that is the frozen heart, move closer please.
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Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
How not to find a Muse
Its usually happens during the day, I will catch myself laughing, radiating genuine joy instead of the usual fraudulent happiness. I'll feel the relief wash over me like a wave, carrying away every dark thought i've ever had. Leaving me feeling weightless and euphoric. And in that brief moment I can finally see the rays on sunlight shining through the murkey waters of my mind. I will be overwhelmed at the concept to have finally made it. To finally see the significant beauty of life through untainted eyes. Yet at 2am, when the worlds asleep and i'm all alone. The only company being my bedroom walls. The air will begin to thicken in my lungs, and I will forget how to breathe. The silence will scream at me as the empty walls start to close in. I will feel the numbness sink in, and it will consume me, as I let the tears fall begin to fall. I will cry for myself, and i'll cry for everyone I love. I will cry for the ones who betrayed me, and for all the people I have betrayed. I will cry because there is nothing I can do to stop the feeling of nothingness and imense sadness hit me in these early hours. Tearing away my sanity with it's claw like nails. And only in the early hours will I curse myself for being so niave, foolish to think I could ever escape my mind. To think that I was ever ok.
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Dysthymia
Grayness swells and burns as ice Coldness fills hollow creeks My mindless ghost of a shell But drifts ever so quietly Ghostly shells as mine Follow the current Follow the breeze Too weak to fight To swim upstream Now I am told the sun returns But will it return without help? Without artificial dawn? Will this dusk be everlasting? Never reaching devil's hour And never returning to shiny morning My ghost ever mourning A loss of some unfamiliar friend Sick for a home that has never existed I forever dwell on my oscillating waking
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Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Ghostly shells