#ward
Mornings bring me a blank sheet to write on. Each morning I try to be better than the day before but by breakfast time that was lost by the bland breakfast and strewed tea and Alun puking quite close to me. How comes he had carrots in his puke when we haven't had carrots in days. I left the dining room holding my breath and went into the lounge and lit a cigarette and gazed out the window at the cold January day. I had only five smokes left until Big Sid came on duty. The stink of ***** The fields were white with frost. Vincent stood beside me and muttered something about painting the scene. He spoke to himself not to me. No one else saw Van Gogh beside me. Dinner was something stewed to death with over boiled potatoes and vegetables. I avoided the carrots. I spent the afternoon watching the TV becoming more brain dead. Teatime we had an assortment of sandwiches and slices of a dried up cake. Loony Lucy slit her left wrist with a razor blade she had stolen from Alun. Blood on the walls and floor. An artery. Before bed she had been cleaned up and sewn up and bandaged up.
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
Sunlight came through the one window of the shrink’s room; it felt warm against your arm. In front of you sat the shrink behind his desk, with a writing pad, and a photo of his wife and kids. Two nurses sat beside you, both ready to jump you if you attempted to attack the shrink, as you had done the previous shrink, a few weeks ago, causing him bruising of face and pride. Your other self was quiet down in the depths of your mind, wandering the rooms of memories. How are we today? the shrink asked. You looked at his thick lips, how they opened and closed, how his teeth were small like those of a piranha. The sunlight is warm, you said to him, I can feel it on the skin on my arm. He sighed softly, and looked down at your file in front of him. How has she behaved? he asked the nurse on your right. The nurse replied, giving him the rundown of the day and previous days. You looked at his blue tie with patterns in red. Your other self came up from the depths of your mind. Don’t answer his questions, she whispered, ignore him, and what a sickening tie. If you grab it now, you could drag him toward you and strangle the ******* You sat there like a tiger ready to pounce, your hands waiting the order to attack, but then at the moment, he looked up and sat back.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
The tension in the lounge this morning was so tense you could cut it with a knife and send it off to war. Big Sid the male nurse tried to ease the tension with humour, but it didn't work. Bradley obnoxious **** said something to Bridget which brought her Gaelic and foul language into the locked ward. I sat watching them and lit a cigarette. The nurses gave Alun a piece of paper and a selection of crayons. He showed me his interpretation of the Mona Lisa: a round faced girl with curtain styled red hair and a smile like a slice of melon. Vincent sitting beside me in the lounge wasn't impressed, but Alun couldn't seem Van Gogh, so it didn't matter. After dinner of overcooked pork and potatoes and vegetables, I had to go and see the shrink. An half hour of one way talk with a new prescription of medication and my moody silence. After teatime of boring sandwiches and sawdust cake, I sat in the lounge watching the braincell destroying TV until bedtime. Life is becoming an unraveling piece of crime.
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 11:47 AM UTC
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.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:25 AM UTC
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
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
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
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC
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.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 11:20 AM UTC
The feel of the pen
on the paper
the poet grabs a verse.
the dripping of morphine
the flow of endorphins
flow of electronic lines
across the monitor
let’s hope we don’t flatline
this mere mortal
needs a portal to the stars
this mere mortal needs
defibrillation to the heart
the way the poetry forms
in the lungs and the mind
the way life needs beauty
is sometimes unkind
I am the blood transfusion
the illusion
of poems
bells chime
Electrons flow
Radioactive X-rays know
Poetry opens doors
I am the emergency poet
I will take flight
in flames
never shall I be tamed
But I will make that heart beat
and get you out of your seat
And on the road to recovery
and discovery
Because poetry heals
and steals back our songs
what could go wrong?
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 2:54 PM UTC
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
Nov 19, 2021
Nov 19, 2021 at 5:05 PM UTC
I’ve never felt
More luxurious
Than when
I was on a newly
Prescribed drug
With a total body high,
Coming down from mania,
Still exuberant,
But in a private space,
In my bathroom
In the ward,
In a bathtub
That does not fill up.
So I put on the shower
And I let the water hit my skin
And I took bite after bite
Of crisp and juicy apple slices.
I was at the mental hospital
Marilyn Monroe stayed in.
I imagined her here in the same bath
Also feeling luxurious and all sorts
Of ****** up like me.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 2:48 PM UTC
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
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC
I have a few more days
In this prison cell
That they call
A hospital ward
Too long has it been
Since I have tasted freedom
I now feel like
I'm on a bed of roses
Feeling my skin
Getting ripped apart
Bit by little bit
It bleeds over the thorns
Soaking into the petals
Staining the white buds red
Dripping down to the floor
And making a pool of crimson
Waiting with anxiety
And anguish
Hoping to be free
To roam around once again
To walk amongst the living
To cast out my shadow
And inhale the fresh air
With my toes in the sand
But that seems like hopeful wishing
And maybe it is
But that is my wish
For a perfect vacation
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 3:28 PM UTC
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
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
Death's flowing scroll
Aweing as you misstep,falling
In a loop which,once surpassed,
Is encompassed with laughter.
Glaring down,screaming.
You both scream in unison,so bitter
It causes the trees in the glen
To bend and whimper—
Flickering back in time for a moment:
Snakebones traced from inside the walls
Slithering malady for countless centuries;
Shedding it's calloused flakes from time to time...
What is that which the starshine overhead emulates?
Is it whiteblood or mere rain? lo,mere dust
Thrown throughout the black sky.
Death guides you to the brim of the cliff.
He is uniformed in your old clothes,brandishing eery whispers
By the flick of his tongue. 'Scream now
And you will scream for an eternity.'
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 2:10 AM UTC
Lose a tire? Tires,
they come and go.
Do you have a grip?
The wheel works, but,
what's the point
if the blue sparks fly?
Some words stuck
well inside this
sternum of mine
just need be said.
What's the point of
you and I, then?
Are we always safe?
What's the point of
this fear of life
when I'll soon be
nothing more than dead?
Hold your eyes, then,
til the heart arrives.
Sparks cannot fill
me up inside with dread.
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 2:02 AM UTC
As I wake
I mistake the sirens as my name
The wail telling me to come
That I’ve got lost again and I need to follow them home
Home as in the straight jacket hospital
Home as in you belong here
Home as in basically GSA
Your mind is the only sharp thing in sight
And the rope once noose tying you down
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
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.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
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
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
lock me in a building
a room, if you will
padded ****** walls
to terrorize my mind
and, most importantly,
fix me
and i wonder
are psychotic girls a good ****
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC
You slid a finger
down the inside
of your left arm
in imitation
of a knife blade.
Nurses passed by
back and forth
busy making beds
in the locked ward.
I sat on the sofa
looking at you
standing there.
Your slim finger
left a feint line
of pinkness.
The Scottish woman
stood by the doorway
smoking and moaning
about the Indian woman
who she said
stunk tha place
ta hell.
Music from the radio
pushed out pop
or DJ crap.
You walked past
the Scottish moaner
into the other part
of the ward.
I watched you
walk away
how the short
dressing gown
held you close.
You beckoned me
to follow
with a curved finger.
I stood up
and walked past
the Scottish woman.
Cannae ya smell
tha stinking betch?
She said.
I said no
although I had
but not wanting
to say.
She moaned on
but I walked away.
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
Yiska ran her finger
down the windowpane.
Outside snow drifted
in large flakes.
She lit a cigarette
and blew smoke
at the pane.
I moved beside her
and watched
the falling snow.
"I want to be out there
not stuck in here
in this madhouse"
she said.
She took my hand in hers
and squeezed it.
"You are the only
element of sanity
in this hole"
she added.
"We are both stuck here
with other broken minds"
I said.
She squeezed
my hand tighter.
A plump nurse
walked past
behind us
like a young hippo.
I saw her reflection
in the windowpane.
"Remember that night
in the ECT room ?"
she said.
"Yes and the night nurse
found you
while I hid under
the recovery bed."
She smiled.
The hippo nurse
came up to us
and said
"Have you had
your medication
yet Yiska?"
Yiska turned
to face the nurse.
"Yes the skinny nurse
gave it to me"
Yiska said.
The nurse walked away
up the locked ward.
"Did she?"
I said.
"She did
but I threw them
down the toilet"
she said
and released
my hand.
I lit a cigarette
and stared out
at the snow
and our promised land.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
They tell me i'm crazy
That i'm a danger to myself
I won't do it again I promise them
No one listens
I'm taken to the hospital
They give me medicine and tell me to stay still
I do as they ask
But I wonder what I did to deserve this
They give me new clothes, scrubs, as some would call them
They show me to my room and I meet my roommate
He gets out in a day
I won't be so lucky
Its night time
I met everyone in the facility
No one ever shows a happy face
No one ever offers me love
I'm lying in bed
I notice how safe everything is
The beds made of plastic, rounded edges
I stare at the ceiling
I eventually fall asleep
I don't know what I was thinking to do so
But I was sound asleep
I dream of the last couple of days
I'm hanging out with my friends
They were never the nicest people
They gave me death threats
Told me to **** myself
One day they got to me
I had lost all hope of a future
So I found my ADHD medicine
And took every last pill
My parents found me the next day
Lying in bed, dazed and confused
I could barely move a muscle
So they called 911
I wake up and find myself in the hospital
I'm crying uncontrollably
My roommate looks at me and walks away
Why does no one care?
I get out of bed
I brush my teeth
They take my pulse
I eat my breakfast
They have a boring activity for us to do
Coloring children's books
They even bring the stress of your homework
Up into the hospital
The only "fun" thing we do
I when they bring us to the indoor track
I walk around the track and I meet a girl younger than me
She is bisexual just like me
We get along well and I thought for once i had an actual friend
But later I come to find out
That after you get out
Your not allowed to talk to them again
So everyday that gets closer to getting out I dread
Because it just means i'm closer and closer
To never seeing her face again
And losing the only real friend I have
The day finally comes
The doctors come and talk with me
They ask if I believe i'm ready to leave
I lie
I tell them I think i'm ready
I pack my clothes up
I brush my teeth one last time
And I go to say goodbye
But right when I look in her room
I see her smiling
Shes talking to her new roommate
I want to hug her
But we aren't allowed physical contact
So I turn around
And I leave
And I never come back
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
The Scottish woman
moaned about the medication
being late and the Asian woman
rocked back and forth
on the armchair
with a bone looking grip
looped in her hair.
You were standing with me
by the large window
gazing out
at the trees and fields
covered in snow.
You touched my hand
with yours
and I sensed
the roughness
of the bandage
around your wrist
where you had cut it
and few days before
and the tubby nurse
found you
sitting on the floor
watching the blood
flow out
and the nurse
screamed at you
something she wasn't
meant to do.
"Wish I was out there"
you said
"lying there
like some lone soldier
deep in snow
waiting for death
and what a way to go."
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC