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#psych
Four walls. Same measurements each day, I’ve learnt them in a careful way, The corner where the paint thins out, The mark that looks a bit like doubt. The light comes on. It hums, then stays, No difference made to nights or days, Time isn’t kept by sun or sky, But by when they pass, and when I lie. I sit because there’s nothing else, No forward plan, no versions, selves, Just waiting without something due, A task that asks me to stay through. The door exists, but not for me, It opens with a certainty, For footsteps, charts, a glance, a note, Then shuts again inside my throat. I count the space from bed to wall, Three steps, then turn, that’s nearly all, A life reduced to paced-out ground, No exit mapped, no edge, no sound.
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Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 12:22 PM UTC
Static
The room sinks in like a closing jaw, baring its teeth at the things I saw; the air tastes thick, like dust and dread, a quiet burial for the thoughts I’ve bled. Nights here stretch with a strangled grin, a taut black thread pulling tight on skin; the light on the ceiling hums low and bleak, like it’s mocking the words I do not speak. My mind is a cellar stacked with bones - old decisions rattling in undertones; they shuffle and clatter in the gloom, staking their claim on this padded tomb. Shadows drip down the walls like tar, slow, deliberate, never far; they curl around me, thin and sly, counting the breaths I barely get by. I feel like a fault line waiting to break, a silent tremor under a frozen lake; one wrong thought and the surface cracks, letting the cold crawl up my back.
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Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 12:40 PM UTC
Black Static
When I die No one will mourn There will be a funeral Many will attend mourning someone That died when I was 10 The gravestone will be mistaken About who I am The people will weep And mourn for long But not for me For they have it wrong They will mourn the girl in the casket A shell of who I once was No one will mourn me That is no lie When I die they will mourn the shell of a girl i once was But the little boy inside who’s always wanted to come out No one will mourn him Ace will be forgotten He will be erased.
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May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:25 AM UTC
A shell for a body
I only knew you for a week But it felt like years We shared much in common Especially our tears It been 2 years I wonder where you’ve gone Did you get into theater school? Or is that dream gone? I remember giving you my book Because you wanted to read It left a impact on you I remember the poems you taught me to write So I’m here writing this one The last words you said to me were “Take care of the hive” It was our inside joke From that book of mine Oh dear Cameron C. I hope you’re ok I think of you often A little to much I hope you’re okay Sincerely your psych ward bf, Ace
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May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC
Dear, Cameron C.
That boy from Virginia The one I once knew We never met in person But I wish that we had You knew more about me Then I knew myself You’re 2 years older God you’re almost 17 I remember when we first met You were 13 You’ve ghosted me twice But sometimes you return I’m not sure you will this time But I hope that you do We wanted to live in Germany With horses and cats We talked about band And how I wanted a cat We’ve seen each other in our highs As well as our lows We grew up together But now you’ve gone on You’ve grown up more And left me back If you happen to see this Please come reach out Oh Kass from Virginia I miss you
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May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
The Boy from Virginia
When you try to **** yourself They lock you up You’re a danger to yourself and others “We’re here to help” By helping they meant giving me medication Till I am a zombie No longer myself But a shell of who I used to be Why didn’t they notice all I needed was a hug Not to be stuck In these padded walls “They are only here to help you” But by helping they make me feel broken I am not normal I’ll never be normal I am broken so bad “Only we can fix you” They says that they’ll fix me But every time I feel Less and less of whom I used to be No worries in the world Just dirt on our knees But now we’re grown up And there is no turning back to the way I used to be.
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May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:20 AM UTC
Who I once was
It's never quite alone. As loose as Colo in Washington Zoo. Upfront and deceitful in all its trials. Like suffocating on air on a Saturday night. Loud but quiet. Hidden but seen. As soft as an egg freshly boiled. Like Tara to Sally, quite but not so. But side to side it’s like my thumb to yours. Like Titus to George. Like twins for sure. All inclusive but with one rule: DON’T GET BETTER. -SleeplessJ
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Apr 10, 2023
Apr 10, 2023 at 12:15 PM UTC
MENTAL ILLNESS.
Another visit to Med Psych; the withdrawals are horrendous. I’m emaciated and malnourished. With the exception of one meal every few days, I’ve dined on ***** and wine for my sustenance. I check out a lap top from the patient library, and try to get the poems organized on my flash drive. Concentration is elusive. The psych doctor decides to have me committed. She’s concerned about my worsening health and depression. I guess I can’t   blame her, but what bird likes a cage? I try to talk her out of it, but she’s resolute. The next day, just as the deputy is serving me the committal papers, I have a seizure—a bad one. My lips turn blue. I **** myself. The doctors pump me full of Ativan.  Everything is a   blur for the next week. Slowly, softly, my mind comes back. I get a room-mate; turns out he’s an artist, a fantastic abstract painter, his name’s Chris. Chris gets the activity director to bring him some paints and other art supplies. He goes to work; stabbing the paper with his brush— makes it bleed with color.  He’s a young   drunk; a madman and a   genius. I have my notebook and my sword. I pound out the word, the line, my highway through this silly society. Chris and I talked long into the autumn night, locked in a   cerebral prison. The room we were in was more like a Greenwich Village beat pad than it was a   hospital room.
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Mar 6, 2023
Mar 6, 2023 at 5:57 AM UTC
Med Psyche
When cruelty tends to be necessity Man conspires with insanity
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Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 5:47 PM UTC
Crucial
Feeling the body split itself apart at the seams and dissipate into single atoms like tiny pixels on a screen Only to come back to it Having been in the middle of a task But caught between surreal reality and the phantom sensation of turning to sand Someone asks a question I smile self-patronizing "Sorry I forgot what I was doing."
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Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 3:13 PM UTC
Melting
I remember the hospitals where we'd float through the vapid halls sitting on the floor laughing leaning against uncomfortable walls I'd play cards with angels I would try to catch their tears they couldn't see their halos too surrounded by their fears I wanted them to understand the ways in which they glowed how their smiles stopped the world from spinning the same smiles that they loathed we all floated through the unit talking and joking about suicide to make sense of all the pain, the death, the voids we had inside god, I would give anything to take their numbness and aching away to hear their laughter, let them know it matters so inconceivably much that they stay what hurts me most is how I love them how I miss them, and need them alive but I grieve my angels already I think of their attempts the ones they barely survived I'm so heavily distressed by the mountains guilt has given me telling me I didn't help, that I never found a remedy if I could be your comfort or your safe place for a while I'd do all I can to see and to hear you, maybe even make you smile I know I'm sad, I'm small, I'm dumb I'm a ghost who might annoy I know that there isn't much I can do as a suicidal boy but know if I could, if it was in my power I would fill the void in you I'd take your trauma, your scars, your razors, dead stars the black, the red, and the blue you're my friend, you're my angel I wish I could make you see how infinity you are loved cherished by the planet, by the universe, by me I understand that you're scared, and tired of living I was in that ambulance too but maybe we could try existing . . together? there's still so many things left to do
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Nov 19, 2021
Nov 19, 2021 at 5:05 PM UTC
a letter to my angels
I remember the hospitals where we'd float through the vapid halls sitting on the floor laughing leaning against uncomfortable walls I'd play cards with angels I would try to catch their tears they couldn't see their halos too surrounded by their fears I wanted them to understand the ways in which they glowed how their smiles stopped the world from spinning the same smiles that they loathed we all floated through the unit talking and joking about suicide to make sense of all the pain, the death, the voids we had inside god, I would give anything to take their numbness and aching away to hear their laughter, let them know it matters so inconceivably much that they stay what hurts me most is how I love them how I miss them, and need them alive but I grieve my angels already I think of their attempts the ones they barely survived I'm so heavily distressed by the mountains guilt has given me telling me I didn't help, that I never found a remedy if I could be your comfort or your safe place for a while I'd do all I can to see and to hear you, maybe even make you smile I know I'm sad, I'm small, I'm dumb I'm a ghost who might annoy I know that there isn't much I can do as a suicidal boy but know if I could, if it was in my power I would fill the void in you I'd take your trauma, your scars, your razors, dead stars the black, the red, and the blue you're my friend, you're my angel I wish I could make you see how infinity you are loved cherished by the planet, by the universe, by me I understand that you're scared, and tired of living I was in that ambulance too but maybe we could try existing . . together? there's still so many things left to do
Continue reading...
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I drown Intoxicated Inside my sea Crushing waves Tsunami triggered Withered morning
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Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 12:19 PM UTC
Islands
A girl not born but made with trauma Her story so bizarre, it seems like a drama But it's not Her childhood, so terrible it was None could face that amount of loss The girl's mother was in her grave Died at the hands of her father who treated the girl as a slave He beat her delicate face every day But no words ever came out of her mouth For there was nothing she could say Once she decided to throw herself into the river So she could drown and leave this life forever But a voice inside told her no The voice wasn't hers But it was calming and slow Days after, she discovered more voices One different from the other But they all told her one thing- Things would get better One day, her father beat her again, But the voice from the river now came out That voice became a person and began to shout The girl, proud of her voice Took some clothes and a horse, and ran away Because she would go anywhere but stay She did not know where she was going to go But she wanted to get away from that vile man she called father She didn't care cause wherever she would be Her voices would always be with her. -Grisha. S
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Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 4:50 PM UTC
VOICES
We all have a shadow side I’ve seen yours Now have a look at mine Opposite of my persona‘s fear I’m not afraid of being weird We are all perfect beyond our pride Made of sub atomic light Still How can one integrate A stability lackImg wealth? A fear the shadow Cannot support the self Who can embrace Love without a wall I’m already on the ground So I’m not afraid to fall Do you believe that you are above Looking down from your love Well that’s a projection Of your greatest fear So take the focus off The broken mirror ........
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Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 12:16 PM UTC
Freud’s Fallen Student
Into this world world will come, A few, Very precious souls. Who  will not fit Into your cookie cutter molds. Yet, To your ideals, You try to make them hold. And never realize, They may be, The purest form of gold
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Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC
"Pure Gold"
I remember the supervised showers The crushed ice The cries at night The feeling of losing control The idea that earbuds with the right twist and ties could make me die The sewn on pillowcases The weapon in scissors, mirrors, handles, sheets, bedposts, bags, shampoo, straps, glass, pens The misdemeanor The boy who’s anorexia was his slow suicide The girl with two siblings that killed themselves How everyone wanted to **** themself The 7-year-old that only cried The lime green hallways that haunt my mind
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
All just suicide
As the night grows darker, Deeper go into the abyss I. Circling thoughts of past Threads of the future unknown Fused with the time of present Deeper go into the abyss I. My eyes sees the journey through, Oh how my body it grows. Gliding over the blankness I go, The soul reaching out to cosmos. Scatters my body to particles infinite, As I cover the distance in the dark of night. Chasing the dark with the speed of light, Deeper go into the abyss I.
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Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
Abysmal
A poem a day, Keeps the psychiatrists away.
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May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 7:31 AM UTC
Poems.
The beautiful girl with the raven hair. A sleeve of pain she doesn’t remember. A past of stolen innocence and growing up too fast. A life of raising her sisters but losing her daughter, because money doesn’t grow on trees and 22 weeks was all the time she could get. A heart of gold but a facade of steel, too scared to let anyone back in. A soul that rages of fire, power, and more grit than anyone I’ve met. A future that my heart wishes for her more than she will ever know. She will get everything she desires. Her sobriety will be the medal around her neck. Her life will be the trophy she won back. And her beautiful children will be the emblem of strength that let them be born.
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Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
Meghan
some days i miss the psych ward being away from society left with only my demons not being able to be hurt by anyone there i wish i could find that comfortability out in the real world instead of hiding away in these locked away rooms
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
i am tired of hiding