#mentalhospital
A vulture flies over the hospital.
After a meal, we never feel full.
We eat it all, but it’s never enough.
A few weeks in here will make you feel tough.
Stronger than iron, but weaker than will.
Today, you are strong, but wait until
They change your meds, give you the wrong drug.
It’ll leave you angry, like a violent ****
Wait one more week, wait one more day.
Stay here forever, it’s better that way.
They give you warmth, and food to eat,
All of your meds, a bed to sleep.
But you cannot stay, your time here is done.
Look back at the window, the vulture is gone.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 9:17 PM UTC
Coldness
The loud gasps for air
And a phone you've been
Clutching in your hand.
The car chasing you,
Fear in your eyes.
You know it's the end.
You wait for the
Pretty blue and red lights
To save you.
And then you wake up,
Doctor everywhere,
And your very first
Mental hospital friend
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 9:17 AM UTC
Recreational Insanity
Unconditional Inanity
Impractical Commonality
Warm Welcome to the Family
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 9:14 PM UTC
My feeling word is adjective.
My mood number is one to ten.
My goal was met, and now I get
To wonder when I'm free again.
I guess I'm unimaginative.
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 10:01 PM UTC
1) Mental hospitals are more like dramas/comedies than horror
films. When people think of psych wards they think of criminally
insane people rocking back and forth, talking to their imaginary
friends and throwing chairs. Don't get me wrong, there's some of
those. But most of us just do word searches, color, joke about
serious things.
2) We aren't monsters, we are your brothers, your daughters, your
mother, your co-worker we are just regular people who have lost
our way and need some help finding the path again
3) I am closer to people I knew for 2 weeks than I will ever be with
anyone on the outside. Yes we all call it the outside
4) Sometimes talking to people who understand what you're going
through is more therapeutic than the actual therapy groups. This
is not to say that the doctors there are crap it is just to say that no
matter how much they read and listen they will never truly
understand what it feels like unless they have been there and we
can tell who has been there, they go the extra mile to make us
feel like people
5) It's not a vacation, it's not fun, it's not an escape from the real
world. It is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is work.
6) Everyone in there is a person in unbearable pain but it isn't just a
bunch of people sitting around crying. We go from group to
group and then color and go to bed nothing about it is really fun
but you get used to it
7) The mental hospital is like a camp for empty people, just like a
band camp we can all relate to each other and makes you feel
less alone
8) Getting discharged it a great feeling because you are free, but it
is also completely terrifying, in the hospital it's safe, people get it,
there is always someone to talk to and now you're all alone
9) Just because I've spent 7 and a half weeks in a mental hospital
over 2 stays doesn't mean I am fixed there is no cure for my
illnesses and that's just the way it is
10) We are not who you think, the kindest people I've ever met
were also the ones hurting the most.
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
.madame's stifled feverish
tittering,
voice raucous as tamped in a
corselet,
translucent skin akin to pellucid
drapery,
overwrought hands entwined in champagne
hair,
madame's eccentricity is her
lunacy.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
.the mellifluous static of the ebony
radio,
dulcet hallucinations imbricate in her
Crumpet,
ephemeral visionary of the
erstwhile,
Madame’s a suitable fandangle tenant of the
bedlam.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
.madame scrutinized the greenwood through the
crevice,
appetency for the veil of sea
smoke,
imperceptive to her
frenzy.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
.ensnared in an austere
plight,
madame’s urbane actuality,
disenfranchised.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
.the exuberant dimension of reciting
hysteria.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
I never, not once,
thought that I would be able
to do something
like that.
But the way his fingers
traced over my skin,
or how he leaned in and whispered
delicately, into my ear.
"You're Mine For Tonight"
His fingers traced
along my jawline
every time having a
different feeling
of security,
wilderness,
passion.
Maybe I liked him because
of the fact that he's never
been with a guy.
No other guy has ever
touched his perfect torso,
had their fingers tousled
in his hair.
No other guy has had him
how I have him right now.
He's naked
while being in clothes.
He's true
when he's lying.
My fingers grazed over
where the bullet left a scar
on his perfect chest.
I touched every ab
on his stomach.
Then traced the outline
of every vein on his arm,
his lips were luscious
and plump
and looked as if they tasted of
honey.
We're not supposed to be doing
things like this.
We are in a home for the crazies,
to get people like us off the streets.
We are here to keep people like
our parents,
safe from the true reality of
the world.
To keep people like our parents
unaware of the fact there are
people like us who don't want to live,
who crave the sight of a beaded line
on their arm or leg.
Who crave the drugs that make them
feel happy.
Who crave the life of a normal person
Who doesn't have to be the most popular guy
in school.
We don't exist in our parent's worlds.
We don't have a place there.
So they lock us up here.
Where we have unholy thoughts,
and an addiction to the taste of lead.
"Checks"
The nurse pulls me away from my thoughts.
What I wouldn't give for my dreams
to come true.
"Those checks sure can get to be really annoying.
"I know, but that's a requirement when you are deemed crazy."
I say.
There we were,
him sitting on my bed,
me sitting on my chair.
Both fully clothed.
Both unaware of our thoughts
towards each other.
But both aware,
that nothing will ever happen.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
Tick Tock
Time goes slow when you're in hospital
Tick Tock
What you think was two minutes was actually one
Tick Tock
You feel like your losing your mind and that's what they want
That's what your mental health wants you to feel like
It's punishing you for going to hospital
Tick Tock
Every second you're in hospital, your mental health is thinking of punishments
Tick Tock
Careful what you say because it determines how severe your punishment is
Tick Tock
Beware of the traps they set, the psychos that is
Tick Tock
No one cares because you are not suicidal
They let you go to let you suffer
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Within my minds eye I keep
Our days of blissful joy
Yet in my sleep I weep
Because I know you found another boy.
I can't forget our love together
I loved you more than I knew I could
Your face will stay in my mind forever
The say love never dies but I knew it would.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
In bustling streets I walk alone,
Along paths of grey stone.
This feeling I have not known,
But within these walls I have grown,
To you this will be shown.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
i spent a week
in the behavioral center
psych ward
mental hospital
they said three to five days
they said they wanted to monitor
i spent a week
simplistic routine
group and rec therapy
all so they could see
why
i was feeling the things i felt
asking questions
getting personal
i spent a week
new medication
new friends
new experiences
new diagnosis
all from the psych ward
i notice it everywhere now
why i do the things i do
bipolar
a simple word that explains
EVERYTHING
it all makes sense
the decisions i make
that i wouldn’t normally make
it all makes sense
the racing thoughts
twenty four seven three sixty five
it all makes sense
the excessive shopping
with money i don’t have
it all makes sense
my mouth and my brain
racing
but not on the same track
it all makes sense
i spent a week
in the psych ward
-k.l.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
As I swallowed my miseries,
the pain consumed me,
the weakness nipped my heels,
I felt fear.
As I sat in the hospital bed,
the ocean drained my sorrows,
the needle pierced my soul,
I felt weakness.
As I closed my eyes in group therapy,
the sins of others spoke to me,
the sins of myself consumed me,
I felt nothing.
But as I sat in the caged courtyard,
the wind embraced me,
the sun caressed me,
I felt peace.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I keep thinking about this beautiful girl from the mental hospital. Her name was Carion, and she didn't exist.
She had lived her entire life without a social security number, no blood type or birth certificate to define her
and the walls of Calhoun couldn't confine her because she would
Carry On - that's how I spelled it in my head.
I know her name was only one 'r' from being the word for dead animals, but it never registered for me.
She was no corpse for vultures or hounds, but they stalked her anyway,
her demons were hyenas lurking in shadows but her
round eyes were bright and she told me I was pretty and that, later, she'd flirt with me if it weren't against the rules.
I wanted to flirt with her, too. Make that brown bark flesh all flushed with a blush from the way we whispered sweet nothings with voices all hushed.
Oh, Carry-On.
Those blue hospital gowns wrapped around you, on that dark skin like the way a robins-egg hue clashed with the branches of a nest.
I remember how we sat with the same pain in our chests.
I hope she's ok.
I hope she's still carrying on in the same way she did in that horrible place.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC