#mental-health
Lost
A voyage of expression
Of pain
An examination of ones own worth
A date with desperation
A way to find solace, identity
The words kept by the heart and abused by the brain
Where dreams go to die and worries come to stay
To be stuck in an endless void
Where warmth is a stranger and coldness a neighbor
To dance with the monsters that dwell in your head
And comfort the ones that live under your bed
A forbidden art with sweet release
To tangle with your own desires
The darkness brings something the light cannot
Courage, anxiety, strength
A candle provides a dim path
The heat from the fire burns
Reminding you of how alive you are
How blissfully free
And how utterly alone
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Depression is all
About if you loved me, you
Would. But you wouldn't.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Another drink,
Another smoke.
One more story,
One more book.
A long day out,
A night awake.
Two more songs,
Four more games.
Daydreaming again,
Creating stories in her head.
Dreading the moment,
she's alone once again.
“I’m fighting my demons,”
She says.
“I’m pushing them away.”
He shakes his head.
“My dear, it seems to me,
That you are running away.”
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Silence. Solvent. Substituted;
subsidised
then marginalised
instituted and muted.
And, often
persecuted.
Rationanalised
by abstraction:
every minuscule
interaction dissected.
All that is left is convoluted,
misconstrued
and rejected.
The lucid bewildered.
The disillusioned bejeweled:
rooted in their state of mind.
Effortlessly self-proclaiming
restraining
and refraining
purging the imagination:
the waning of maligned mankind.
And all of his
illuminated limitations.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
keep doing things like you are now,
and I hope to see you get pushed even further down,
by the ones who are supposed to help pull you up.
I will and have always been here to help you,
and have,
but one day that's going to stop.
and that's going to ****
when you learn how much the world ***** first hand.
because no one holds your hand.
and life,
its not one plan,
its full of little things you eventually fall into,
but what you have fallen into,
is a sick and twisted pattern,
my old friend,
you gotta get out of this monster,
You know me,
by god,
our house,
everything's a ******* open book,
and sometimes I feel you don't even look,
but maybe your over looking,
or not looking close enough,
Because you were the one whose always had more then enough,
I don't say that to make u feel sorry for me,
but I say it so maybe you on top of everything,
Don't also have to be someone who is mean,
Having a knowledge about me,
you know how,
kids can me cruel,
and your constant put downs,
are no better then the ones I get served at school daily,
from teachers students and friends and now I guess my family,
Being told theirs nothing wrong,
like lying to me,
telling me my dreams are now a reality,
BUT THERE NOT,
because there are too many things wrong to name,
and my dream wont ever become more then a game,
because my mind is being told lies to feed my flame,
and you can call me the lier,
and call it my own game,
ad that I'm only looking to gain,
But I only want to gain,
What I've always been denied,
And that used to be the help I needed in school,
But as you said,
Like everyone else too,
I'm going no where,
So all I ask for,
Is my happiness they robbed me of,
but that's impassible to get back,
Just like love,
But I can at lest act loving,
And pretend happiness is a thing that exists for me,
because I don't know,
What else to do,
because I've missed out on so much,
and for you to tell me I'm stupid and don't know ****
That's ********
you don't know ****
Our house was and always will be an open book,
my life's been discussed openly,
you know everything about me,
so I'll ask you this,
Why didn't you chose,
to look closely?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Incubus.
The male demon inside my head
The astral constellation
satellites off the shores of Pluto
a cold crushed diamond
hurtling in hyperspace
sparkling in rotation
silently spoken
the unspoken,
the uttered,
the muttered and the said.
Gas formations spiral
the nebula of new world creations
happening beneath the cobalt sky
the unanswered questions
am I even here
and if so,
why?
Gravity.
Descends me
push and pulls me
the ground holds me
reaching for the stars
just beyond my grasp
Space.
That vacuum
******* the corners of imagination
and the lost voices of childhood
running free in the long grass
of colourful dreams.
In the blur I see you
moving slightly amid plucked strings
and vintage wallpaper
the garden of candles
flickering in the near light.
The incubus of devilment
and stolen words
to yet reveal themselves
the forgotten fragrance
of yesterday's radiance
never forgotten
just a short solar burst away
from Proxima Centauri.
I'll get there,
eventually.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
you are fragile
and the boy in the year above you calls you fat
and the girl in the row behind says you look like a rat
and you sit and think about it for a few minutes
minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days
and soon you've lost track of the last time you ate
and soon you've become obsessed with your weight
you forgot what colour your skin used to be
because your arms are covered in red lines
and you cry all the time
you are fragile
and the girl in the hospital bed groans
she is short and she is thin,
skin and bones
this girl is you
and there is only one thing you need to do
but again, all you can do is cry
all you hear the doctor do is sigh
you hear the boy in the year above has died
drunk with a car, an upsetting fate
and the girl in the row behinds period is late
when was the last time you ate?
you are fragile
and the man in the street smiles
he stares for a while
he soaks up any sadness
laughs at your jokes
you are happy -
madness
you remember what colour your skin was
and the last time you ate
because he has fixed you
you are not fragile
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
I sip my beer, the relief of foam
the last remnant of civilisation
like a porcupine shawl
alcohol is the spine slice
beneath the skin
welcoming me in.
Electric lights shining bright
eels wriggling in a pool of light
like Frankenstein reborn
the monster within
the feathers of a passing dove give flight.
Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus
the breathlessness of sentiments
wrapped in tin foil
the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.
Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit
electric toaster bubble and squeak
and fidgety machete at the ready
the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!'
the institute transmutes its underplay
I opt to not execute on this occasion
instead soak up the libation of liberation.
Safe in the knowledge;
tomorrow is another day.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
I call it the Changeover;
like an analogue radio searching for a signal
sometimes it's clear
sometimes it's static
sometimes it's in between
somewhere between far away and near
somewhere lost in the middle
between Signal and Static.
Clear Day the signal reaches out its arms as far as the eye can see
and the ears can hear
and the senses can feel
and taste buds pop and linger
and revel in new experience
and comfort in knowing
and wrapped in wonderment.
Changeover Day is somewhere between Clear Day and Nowhere
struggling to tune in
backwards or forwards
or sideways or upwards
to something
to anything that resembles a signal
like hearing voices in another room
an argument through a wall
the indecipherable murmur of music
the clamber of ushered noise
the mishmash and cacophony
like a symphony of Morse code.
Static Day is dark day
there is no signal
no senses
no sound
only indeterminate fuzz
and the crackle of broken glass
and the foghorn
and the white noise
the confusion and delusion
the paranoia of shifting jigsaws
changing pieces that never fit together
can almost make out a face through the frosted glass
the smear like bird **** on a window
halfheartedly wiped with lackadaisical whimsy
and greasy chip shop newspaper.
In the Static there is no wind
no heart to beat
no empathy or sympathy
just
cold
hard
steel
out of place in a room of feathers and feeling.
You just have to ride out the storm
tell yourself:
it'll be calm soon
it'll be calm soon
it'll be calm soon
The Changeover
from Static to Signal
and the welcome return of voices
and breathing
and beating
and feeling.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
stop pretending no one loves you
stop pretending no one cares about you
you care
if you didn't care you wouldn't wake up
you wouldn't give your lungs the oxygen they need
give yourself credit
you are the one who throws the blades out of the window
and listens to your head and your thoughts
you are the one who deals with your pain
and manages to drag you out of bed for a shower
every so often
you are the one who goes into recovery
because you want to live
no one else stays up to the late hours drying your tears
and listening to every deep breath and sob
and you long for someone to
although you already have someone
you are enough
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Even on the brink of freedom
when the shackles have been removed
and bodies drenched in aromatic wine
you seek vengeance in the name of duty.
I can only hope for you my dear friend
that when such time arrives
you'll embrace the wisdom of creation
rather than the destruction
bestowed in the futility
that never loved you.
There is no boast in easy victory
or laughter in seeing the tears
tumble from the heavens.
Set aside wounded pride
instead envision the shroud
of misanthropic deviance
mystified by the devices of illusion.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
there was a lot that
you left behind on that
dreaded day
i don't really recall
being truly sad when
you passed
but i recall 18 years
of mental rehab and
5 years of on going
drug addiction
i replaced you with
my fuse remains
short and i remain
happy within chaos
that's all i remember
when you left
i know, i know
i know im getting
better without you
but mom and i's
relationship remains
dangling from the
warpath you created
between your 3 kids
i just have a lot
of questions ill never
have answered. i don't
think i miss you, though.
i just wish you could've
fixed the bridges you
destroyed before you
left.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
I feel like a tourist in my own life
Standing idle and watching things go by
Never gaining the courage needed to participate
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
I just want to curl up and cry curl up and die
Everything hurts and I want it all to end
Not fair not fair not fair
What’s wrong
Don’t know don’t ask
Like you care
Don’t pretend
Don’t text don’t call don’t talk
Breathe in and out
Breathe too fast
Can’t breathe
Can’t stop
Tears fall
Don’t know don’t ask
Help me help me help me
But no help comes.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Benzo, blur my mornings and bury my feelings.
Beat down my misery and banish my ecstasy.
Steal my sweetness and turn my stillness sour.
Spit out a new me, and the old me, devour.
You stick in my throat like a longing to say
something I had too soon, too easily forgotten.
Trapped and helpless at the tip of my tongue
is each little thought and each one turns rotten.
Now all my worries wash grey and bore me asleep,
as time stops his march and slows to a creep
that claws through my head, and the worries unsaid
are left to fester in a foul and filthy old heap.
Though they may reek like flesh on a dying fire,
I could take them or leave them just where they are.
I have no heat, no bold and burning desire
to do anything but nothing, and, so, to nothing I retire.
Leave me be beeping alarm that screams like a maniac
so desperate to jump to his next brewing thought.
Leave me be roaring traffic, so equally manic,
leave me here in my head to lose this loose plot.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
serves: one (because you'll probably die alone)
difficulty: simple, but overthink it anyway
ingredients:
one cup anxiety
an ounce of depression
a splash of paranoia
a dash of deflection
a lack of concentration
the fear of rejection
garnish with mood swings
a side of obsession
served: on the rocks
(shaken, not stirred)
instructions: add tequila and drink until symptoms subside
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
It's amazing watching skin heal and realizing you haven't.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.
I'm not quite sure how to move forward,
Or how to fix this condition;
It is sad that I have ended up this way,
A disturbing and abysmal rendition.
With knowledge comes power,
Power follows along so close behind.
With knowledge also comes loss,
Innocence is no longer mine.
I fear I have went too far,
I fear there is not much left for me.
I fear I have locked my heart's door,
And let darkness swallow the key.
My goodness peeks through sometimes,
But it is just smothered by disease.
And no matter how hard I try,
It's a sickness I cannot appease.
I wish that God existed,
A merciful, kind deity above,
One that didn't just speak
But act upon the written love.
If that was true, I could find solace,
But God does not exist,
I am finding another way,
Other than religion's devious mist.
Or perhaps that is an overstatement,
For I see no solution.
My morality has bent recently,
Undergoing evil dilution.
I have lost something, at some point,
And I fear I will never have it back.
It pains me to think about the past,
For it reminds me of what I lack.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
Do not let them in,
sometimes insanity is
all I have of you.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
All alone in my room
where the goblins whale, and the wind goes boom,
I sit alone in the corner with flickering lights
with visions of death I'm not feeling quite right.
delving deep in to my outstretched mind
feeling weary i got in to my bed i climbed,
my mind stained with scribbling's of ink spilt ramblings'
visions' of demons and witches
and unholy tampering's.
The eerie halls creaked as I sat up in bed
I saw a man in my room
I reached for the light
it was all in my head.
I arose from my slumbering grave
never too shy and never too brave.
down the towering stairs where the portraits came alive
a thing of nightmares, in the dark the monsters thrive.
they try and tell me it isn't the house to blame
but I'm a prisoner of my own mind
I have gone insane.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Barely eating
Won't admit to the hunger I feel
Tell you I already ate
That I'll buy some food later
Don't know what it is
Why it is
I'm not overweight
Don't hate being so skinny
Yet still I won't eat
My stomach so foreign to the concept
For although it's not my weight
I'm still delighted by the flatness of my skin
The fall of weight on those scales
I don't know the truth anymore
Can't make sense of the mess I'm in
Don't know if secrets are good or bad
I'm scared
You don't suspect a thing
Making it so easy to waste away
I feel sick at the smell of food
And I just want to run
Forwards, backwards, I can't tell
Barely eating
I never understood the real me
Never thought I could despise what my stomach so desperately needs
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
i'll spend my night lying awake staring
at the ceiling waiting for him to message me
but he never does, i knew this anyway
i knew he wouldn't
eventually, after hours of crying and turning
and bleeding, i'll tire myself out and my eyes will close
and, due to my luck, he'll message five minutes later
but he wont reply when i reply
he won't talk after that
he'll tell me he loves me sometimes
just to try and stop me crying
but it doesnt stop me crying
lies do not comfort me anymore
lies do not dry my cheeks
but i'll eat them like my last meal
and then he'll disappear
and i'll leave it until he messages again
and i'll cry and i'll bleed and i'll punch myself
and i'll ignore everything good in the world
because he refuses to experience it with me
he doesn't want to experience it with me
because i am not good. i am worthless
and he knows it
and they know it
and i know it
and i'll imagine myself being ice like i was before
but somehow his embers have burned through me and it's too heated for me to
freeze over again
and i'll lay awake at night waiting for him to message me
but he won't
he doesn't
i knew he wouldn't, i didn't expect anything else
and he'll tell me he loves me
and i'll eat his lies like my last meal
desperately trying to find some form of solace
but i don't
they taste sour
i look at him like he is a diamond
and he looks at me like i am a pebble
and i am so filled with anger
so much fire, i'm not used to fire
i want to be cold again so it will stop hurting
but it won't. it's too hot here
i'll lay awake at night staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how i can become good enough
or even just enough
but it won't work
and i'll cry and bleed
i want him out of my veins
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
There is so much screaming, a
mess of self-deceit flashing colours
around blinking eyes; we try always
not to let the light in.
Please, the night has fallen and
I cannot stop myself, these thoughts
of mine rise and plunder internal,
ripping pieces of machinery into
new formations, weapons
you smile at me and I take it as
an affront, you stay away and I
scream (please) I do not need you,
(please) I am only myself.
They sharpen inside and force their
way out, blood lying on my tongue
so I disgorge foul words and this
much maligned vanity.
Is it time to run you through the mangle
with me? We can flounder without falling,
but no purchase can be found for
our wandering feet.
No, I push you away and pull
myself asunder, but you do not
leave until I put the knife
to your neck.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
There are so many ideas
Inside of me
Emotions, stories
Fictitious journeys over land and sea
I could paint them all
So beautifully
But it feels as if
I've lost all ability
To record these words
To let ideas come to be
Locked inside the mess of my mind
And I've lost the key
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC