#er
It's never going to be enough,
When I started hurting myself,
I just wanted to bleed,
Then I wanted to see white,
Then I wanted the cut to gape,
Then I wanted to reach the bubbly layer of fat,
Then I wanted stitches,
6,
But that wasn't enough.
Once I need ten, then it'll be enough.
12,
Once I get fifteen, then it'll be enough.
16,
But it was,
Never enough.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 11:15 PM UTC
I've been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes
The teacher probably wonders where I am
I stopped trying to prevent my blood
From getting on the ground.
Over and over and over and over
In the same spot
With a stolen blade,
I took from a classroom.
My hands are shaking so bad,
I can barley type on my phone,
To ask my mom to take me to the ER.
I put my pants back on,
They're soaking we with blood,
Thank god they're black.
I walk upstairs,
The sharpener in my pocket
A puddle of blood next to the toilet.
I get dizzy when I stand,
But it doesn't matter,
I finally did it.
They can't tell me
It's superficial
Anymore.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 5:15 PM UTC
– Ata, üzümə bax gör nə çıxıb,
Atası öpdü onun üzündən.
– Atacan, gözüm şişibdir, bir bax.
Atası öpdü onun gözündən.
– Ata, yandırır günəş üzümü,
Kəsdi atası günün önünü.
– Ata, arılar incitməz məni?
– İncitməz, qızım, onlar kimsəni.
– Yağış yağanda saçım islanmaz?
– Papaq geyərsən, heç bir şey olmaz.
– Atacan, evə çox gec gəlməzsən?
– Getmərəm işə, əgər istəsən.
– Yoruldum yaman, dincələk bəlkə?
– Çox yoruldunsa, gəl gedək evə.
– Gec yatsam bu gün, küsməzsən məndən?
– Mən yox, amma ay inciyər səndən.
– Nə vaxt gedəcəm məktəbə, ata?
– Az qalıb, qızım, həmin o vaxta.
Qızcığaz bir an dayanıb durmur.
Sual verməkdən zərrə yorulmur.
Atanı güdür, gözdən qoymur heç.
Baxır üzünə, qımışır bic-bic.
Sual üstünə sual yağdırır.
Nədir səbəbi bəs bu marağın?!
Dəcəldir yaman, gəzir, axtarır.
O öz gündəlik nəvaziş payın.
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 10:21 AM UTC
I knew what I was getting into
My mom knew too
She didn’t ask if I was willing to go
just assumed
So here I am again
The ER room
What did I expect
A welcome home
I saw her face
She was fine
Her wrists were sealed unlike mine
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
. ****** mantis...
and playing
the heavy-tow
pixel
scrap of a PS1 console...
metal-gear solid...
how much is a **** fetish?
what, with songs
like bunkertor sieben...
me? i enjoy the fringes...
makes me aware of
possessing eyebrow,
before i counter the urban
argument of switching
to zeppelin shit-storming
the whole dictrum....
you can actually
pick out that i'm quiet
"desperate"
succumbing
to the tongue of "Odin",
i.e.: i've exhauasted the
English, the Latin,
i'm just teased by
the use of German....
i was up in arms with
the whole atomic man...
to a point...
where...
grammar was
infringed...
then i was like...
nein, niet. nie
plain and ******* simple
no!
the dead are not worth
any take on reasoning
to concern ourselves with
a conversation...
there's a recurrence
to succumb to...
a mind hidden beneath
the white tinge...
i seem to tend to
"forget"...
i know why the British
decided to leave the European
Union...
eastern-European
migrants...
i know the ****
chicken shop will open
as usual...
my ethnicity became a problem
when they were
the more capitalistic
offenders
of the pro workforce...
that's how capitalism works:
the more
you're benign efficiency...
the more...
well...
important as many
pakistani immigrants...
do i even look
like i ******* care?
i'm here,
i'm not going anywhere...
so now i'm your welcoming
hands of a
shamima begum
being invited back
into the circus?
this isn't a nation,
it's a circus...
but i do remember england,
circa 1997...
i was deemed illegal
back then...
i was sent home
packing...
able enough
to punch a brick wall
from what appears
the jews do, everyday,
meat-heading silent
the hakotel
with a stipend for
a moshpit
attempt
of analysis...
look at me "talk" my bit...
every time i land
back in Warsaw
i'm hit with a whiff
of nausea from
a the effects of a homogenous
society,
every time i land back
in England,
i also tend to find
a new Norman, normal...
of a society left to be
experienced via
a norm of...
first come,
fist served (no, there's no
R in that sentiment)...
post-colonialism...
i'm left, riddled with the Eire...
and the Picts...
but there's still
a part of me that says:
enough of the Anglican-Zunge...
let us return to the genesis,
and tame some deutsche...
i'm a realist in a *******
delusional society...
it's probably akin
to watching the partition
of the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth...
the crux-zenith
of the post-colonial nationhood...
back "home"...
i'm not at "home"...
the only people i talk to
are either old,
or retired...
back in England?
whatever "England" is
these days?
me, you, clueless...
i speak the tongue well enough
to comply to economic migration
of a chamaleon's misnomer
for an ability to adapt...
but? that's just it...
if i adapt,
and i am simultaneously
unable to provide
the prickly thorn assertion
of copper...
but... merely: simili cutis?
oh... FAIL...
i worship this tongue like
a deity...
because i found the french
tongue begging...
diacritical markers:
my idiosyncrasy....
the reason why i'm teasing
lessons in german?
of the liberal sons...
i came to find the strict
fathers...
and i know
that the fathers are the harangue
aloft levitating halos of
a permanence
with an attitude ascribed
to excessive pride...
such a sight to behold,
though...
a once framed opulance...
become so riddle-infested
by time,
and all manner
of the negation of ease
(dis)
having no better
origin, other than in...
counter to the semitic strict
obligation of keeping
the phonetic skeleton...
to the letter...
vowel (female) **
consonant (male) YX...
allowing its free citizens
the status of ronin...
and the "reinvention"
of the hieroglyphs of the emoji...
:)...
rule number one...
don't think that, just because,
you allowed people to attain
the status of literacy...
they would remain literate
to an orthodox, standard,
and would not deviate...
disinhibit themselves
into a the use of a degenerate
phonetic encoding "language",
akin to the emoji hieroglyph.
you were wrong,
i wasn't even born
to predate the current problem
with "said", words.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 9:25 PM UTC
Observable words
turning in circles
perfectly working
affirmed in impermanence
Serpents within swirls
swerve in the verve
curvature burned irksome
turbidity skinned earnest
Journal pearls quirked
turpentine turbulence
since worries serve nervousness
the cure in spurts of churlishness
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
She's going to make it
Lost a lot of blood...
****
High alcohol level
Ten minutes away
She's okay, she's okay
Losing her fast
She's gonna make it!
————————————
My head is reeling
Dear god, the world is on it's back
Please,
Stop panicking— it's only blood
No, I don't want an IV
It's okay, I'm okay
Don't give me an IV
Don't touch me, I said no!
agh!
Fears digress to slurred vocabulary
Over and over
"Am I broke? Am I broke now?"
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
theres a woman
at least i think a woman
who shuffles feet close to the floor
one boot crunched
her heel isn't where it should be in her shoe
but she doesn't seem to notice or care
horizontal striped shirt and loose blue jeans
spiked blond hair
her eyes sag opposite her hair
exaggerating the effect
theres a man in a wheelchair
i've never seen thinner shins under thick body
he looks smaller than he is
perhaps an optical illusion
he has glasses thin framed and his belly a perfect sphere
mounted on his lap.
he calls to the attendant
all he needs is to be pushed out to the parking lot
his ride is here but he can't move his own body
there's an old woman named patty
she leans on a pink and purple cane
the pattern rubbed down to the metal where
her hand always clutches the curve
she has high blood sugar
she didnt want to come
but the attendants at the nursing home made her
and she had just been bragging about how long it had been
since her last ER visit.
She had to call her son roland to drive her here
theres a son named roland
we made eye contact as soon as he came in and he is kind
he holds eye contact in that way that people do when
they feel responsible for a situation
and need to connect with another human.
he got his mother water with ice,
and she said she didnt need ice-
-like it was a luxury, not an inconvenience
There was a woman crying
i think her loved one was burned somehow
2nd degree, did i hear? on the face?
her family comes and she cries and hugs
and her father tries to tell her she should go home
she's not going home
theres no way that woman is going home
she calls people and coordinates with family and friends
and you can feel the panic radiating from her
there are two teen girls who sit in the low chairs
i've never seen two people look more tired or
drained
eyes red and heavy
sweat pants and socks in sandals
messy ponytail and bun
and they don't speak to each other
they just sit
and stare at the ground
seemingly endlessly.
i bet they are all still there except the man with the spherical belly and the thin shins.
i suppose none of us make it out of this life alive
its just that sometimes i forget
how many talk with death before they meet him
sometimes i forget how their families weep
for that conversation
i forget that emergency rooms even exist.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
I sit, I glare and patiently wait,
I’m angry and tense, I warn you, mate!
Back off! Beware! Don’t push your fate,
One more step, and it will be late!
I don’t fancy blocking yer road,
No, just protecting my abode.
Walk your way now, I’ll walk mine,
Respect my fences and you’ll be fine!
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
It wasn't that bad, that trip to the ER,
And my sickness didn't leave a physical scar,
But I must admit I got carried away
While making that soup one fine winter day.
See, my friend went and dared me to make the stuff,
And to this day it could've been a bluff,
But when I am dared, it's a serious matter,
So I started to whip up a little bit of batter.
Right into the fridge, my hands were busy,
Making that soup really got me dizzy.
A fish head, salsa, old dried beans,
Mustard, spinach, and coffee creams.
That glop must have boiled for hours and hours,
And that kitchen, I swear, it needed a shower.
At any rate, I don't yet feel regret,
But I'll tell you right now, the key word is yet,
Because I still have a big medical issue,
And on top of that, no social life, too,
But the occasional heart attack won't make me droop,
Because I loved making and eating that soup.
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
After a few days in bed
And finally reaching help
Upon hearing the news
I've decided that this is how it will be
This is my life
Unable to talk
Unable to move
I am to be worthless
But fate, it seems,
would have something very different to say on the matter
Because fate stepped in,
in the form of a Father.
My family was sad, but my dad knew what i needed
He found an orange, he knew we could beat it
He would hit me with the orange
Trying to **** me off
Telling me to catch it
In my head i would scoff
He said "Use your right hand"
I though he was a bit off
Angrily I worked
Just to get him to stop
Until finally one day
The orange had been caught
-Brian Patrick O'Connor SR.-
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
I feel fine, I feel normal.
Then, I feel numb and weak.
I feel panic and confusion
Sleeping alone in my bed for three days
Unable to process life, unable to stay awake
Fighting to even gather my thoughts.
Knowing I need help but not knowing how to get it.
I have forgotten "911"
I have forgotten my brother and my friends.
I have forgotten how to use a phone.
I try to drink water, but that falls out of my mouth
I can barely move myself around the house.
Then a knock at the door.
My friend! I know I should know him.
He knows me, but I don't know him.
He asks me how I am
My reply is only a moan and random sounds.
He carries me to my truck
He carries me to the ER
I am only 19, who would have ever thought.
The doctor comes in and simply tells me
I have had a stroke.
What is a man to do?
-Brian Patrick O'Connor SR-
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
Going to sleep is the scariest thing.
Not because of nightmares
Or sleep walking or whatever else,
But because of the uncertainty.
The uncertainty that a new day will start,
That your life won't be significantly altered,
Or that your loved ones will be the same.
Normal people don't dread sleep though,
But there's just something about cancer
That makes sleep an uneasy task.
Having a mother with cancer will change your entire life.
From dreading the thing you cherished most,
To not knowing how to live your life.
You become used to being woken up for
Middle of the night treks to the ER.
And to think about becoming used to that
Well, that's enough to make you sick.
But you have no choice but to trudge through,
You have to seem strong and stable,
But going to sleep is the scariest thing.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
I sit in this hospital
For someone else that isn't me
Instead, for someone finally trying to be
The person that's underneath all of those bottles
We thought you'd scream and fight
Instead it was almost like we had reached
Your destination of the beach
As we pulled in you freaked
A little about the record
And what they would think of you
You, black pants and no shoes
Really, though -
Who could not respect
A young man standing tough
In the waiting room of an emergency room
Finally accepting help
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
my body shakes from the cold
that’s normal - at least its what i’m told
my whole body shakes
its like i’m an earthquake
an earthquake inside
waiting to break my mind
its so hard to tell
when i hear the bell
if all of this is truly real
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
Jeg tror mennesket stræber efter ansvarsløshed. Vi bliver født uden ansvar; i den totale afmagt. Til sidst er vi ligeså skrøbelige og uselvstændige som i begyndelsen, og ind i mellem det og den, så prøver folk at påtage sig opgaver og roller for at tildele årene og dagene noget værdi. Hertil følger ansvar. Men frihed under ansvar er ikke frihed. Når man erkender, at man forsøgte at tillægge noget nogen værdi, så er man bundet af frigørelsen. Så ser man at uanset hvilken værdi, man har lyst til at give, kan man give, så værdien pludselig får værdi, og man frigøres fra frigørelsen. Det er frihed uden ansvar og selvstændighed og årets frugt.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Du gabst ihr dein Herz, doch sie gab dir Ihres nicht. Also gab ich dir meins, doch du hattest keins für mich. Jetzt hast du mein Herz und in mir ist ein dunkles klaffendes Loch.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
Du warst das Blut in meinen Adern, mein Herzschlag. Ich war nicht einmal der Staub unter deinen Schuhen.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
sehnsucht nach einer person, würden menschen es in
worte fassen, dessen gebrauch sie gar nicht kennen.
oh nein, ich habe keine sehnsucht nach einer person –
ich habe heimweh. ich habe mich bei ihm – und
zwar egal wo: im bus, oder auch in einen dunkeln
raum, der gähnend leer ist, außer zwei personen
und eine handvoll worte, denen ich mich nicht
entziehen kann – mehr geborgen gefühlt, als
in meinen eigenen heim.
denn zu hause ist kein ort, sondern ein gefühl.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
I was going to write a poem,
About the girl that first stole my heart..
*But I can't find any words,
And thinking of you makes my heart hurt.*
(c.r.)
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
*My room still reeks of ***** and bad decisions-
Bad decisions that smell like a rotting carcass that is;
I cleaned my room two days ago, yet somehow it looks like a tornado hit it.
My mirror is on the ‘floor’ slightly cracked;
But I can’t find my floor, it’s hidden in the sea of all my clothes
Outside my apartment is the shattered handle of whiskey
I drank it all night,
And on my kitchen floor is the handle of ***** we finished too
How much exactly did I drink?
Enough to get me into the ER I suppose
I’m still picking out shards of glass from the bottom of my feet
Apparently when you’re drunk you feel so invincible-
You don’t realize you’ve walked on broken glass
Or notice the trail of blood that you’re tracking,
Just when I thought I was done living my own version of hell,
My mom called me.
She told me that she was disappointed in me
I heard how much every word that escaped her mouth sounded painful and sour.
I could tell she hated me for making her feel this way, but yet she still loves me with every ounce of her body
It must hurt having to love somebody who only causes you pain-
After a while her words didn’t sound like words anymore, just noises;
I didn’t want to hear what she had to say because
It started to hurt more than picking shards of glass from my skin
My mother hung up the phone-
Click, the receiver went dead and I was left with the sound of her hollow disappointed I love you.
My room still reeks of bad decisions and *****
I don’t want to be in here, but I am
Because whiskey can only do so much-
It might take away the problems and pain for a little while,
But sooner or later it’ll get greedy and take everything you have
It’ll make you into a failure and a slave to its taste.
It will not only destroy you,
But it will destroy everyone around you, until it has eaten away everything*
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
Hour 20:
The white walls soffocating me,
I'm a walking zombie
and a hero wannabe.
The background sounds
beep, beep, beep
and I just wanna sleep.
I have a worried mother
whose child has fever,
and a not-so-hurt drunk driver
that tonight became a killer.
A 40 year old that's been coughing a few days
and thought of coming to the ER at 4am
because, hey, they are probably not so busy anyways.
I like my job,
and I love saving lives,
but God knows I have to put in order mine.
A heart has stopped in bed number nine,
chest compressions and meds don't make it beat,
I don't want to, but I gotta call it.
A teenager needs stitches,
she's making a mess,
apparently her scar is more important than anyone else.
A few more hours and I can go home,
time is passing slowly.
Hey, look! There is the sun!
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC