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DT Brewer May 4
Special is the word they use when they talk about me

They assume that my diagnosis fully defines me

Sometimes I wish I could only be heard and not seen

That’s what I often think about when I daydream
A Mar 2016
I  am facing yet another war, and I know you are too.
So please know,
This battle is worth fighting for you.
I rather be loved by the outcasted,
Then to be hated by the royalty.
But I will always be a princess suited in metal armor.

I promise to hold your hand and clense you of your wounds,
I promise to always listen,  validate, and accept you no matter what weight, age, color, size, sexuality or diagnosis.
I promise to always fight for your safe haven to become the world you live in.

Even if you do not think you are worth it,

I always will.


Equality for all,
Or equality for none.
III
dissociation a curse
dissociation my enemy
enemy barges in
enemy takes control
control is crippling
control must go
go seek advise
go to friends
friends may ignore
friends may listen
listen to god
listen to nothing
nothing is something
nothing is numbing
numbing craves alcohol
numbing craves drugs
drugs are prescribed  
drugs will fix
fix my brain
fix cracked mirrors
mirrors taunt me
mirrors tell lies
lies i tell
lies cover bruise
bruise my hand
bruise my brother
brother is silent
brother please forgive
forgive me father
forgive me mother
father please help
father is futile
futile defines me
futile invites suicide
suicide with pills
suicide i survived
survived from coma
survived in hospital
hospital is helpful
hospital gives answers
answers for family
answers to problems
problems with doctors
problems with diagnosis
diagnosis is discovered
diagnosis is depersonalization
depersonalization creates poet
depresonalization becomes mad

mad
poet
Thanks L.D. Goodwin for introducing me to the Blitz poem!

  The "official" rules are as follows (taken from Robert Lee Brewer of Writer's Digest):

•Line 1 should be one short phrase or image (like “build a boat”)
•Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1 (something like “build a house”)
•Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words (so Line 3 might be “house for sale” and Line 4 might be “house for rent”)
•Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines
•Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48
•Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47
•The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3)(preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47)
•There should be no punctuation
Go away
I'm chemically unstable

There's no way
Now that we ever will be able

To be considered me
Truely alright, fine, good, normal


Medicine ungiven
Diagnosis wishing
Why others wouldn't listen?
Because they're talking flesh
Seth Keplinger Jul 2018
I keep pretending I'm alone.
Even after losing my seat
to her new prince.

it's spellbinding,  
enough to make my dog wince.

I still love the sad songs her puppy dog eyes dispense.
it was never her truth, per usual;
per his glimpse,
into the future of my demise.
I pretend to appreciate the gent in the white coat.
A self diagnosis wouldn't compromise
my vulnerability.  
Don't, she won't, undermine my competency
it lends itself to my daily routine,
I self prescribe with perplexing potency
and abide
an unprecedented golden rule.
This wasn't preconditioned,
not an act of repetition.
Like Pavlov's shepherd
I implore and drool.  

I pretend its a new found happiness.
it's for the birds
and deveivers
I believe it's for the ignorant
the boring
the people with white picket fences
and golden retrievers.
Beware of the conformist
the ones who did well on geometry tests
their smile so luminous  
like diamonds between her *******.


I'm a lose leaf in autumns first frost
hanging on the edge of winters righteous freeze.
the shackled, the .22,
let it be me.  
I'm a warning sign, Cuba 1963;
Why's the gent in the white coat swinging that Triangle hammer at my knees?
I can barely sleep as it is
from this dusty room
I garner for clues inauspiciously
the obtuse path back to the life i once lived,
obstructed by the 4 seasons, the 4 reasons, the 4 walls,
the 4 grains in this whiskey.

Life outside of her box is a bargain.
Before the flies, where my heart lies;
her highfalutin jargon.
Coping with this void gives me nightmares.
joe and daydreams, I
anxiously begin to slur.
I wish he'd stop cutting his pen through the air,
reminds me of my geometry teacher,
lecturing vicariously through a sorcerer
maybe the boring one's preacher?
everyone in this coffee house likes to stare.
Empire Jun 4
Disorder
The word still echoes in my head
Surreal and complicated
Such a heavy word
Even though it's been almost a year
Since things were so bad
And I heard the words:
Anxiety Disorder
Eating Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Followed by the words:
Depression
Phobia
Medication
Each one like a lightning strike
I can feel them in my veins
But the most frightening
Was hearing the prefix:
Severe
I'm still not honest enough with myself about some of these words...
w y n n e Nov 2016
18
Lahat naman tayo nakaramdam na ng lungkot
Lungkot na hindi mo alam kung saan nagmula
Lungkot na hindi mo alam kung ano ang dahilan
Lungkot na hindi mo alam kung ano ang kinahihinatnan
Pero ang pinaka-nakakalungkot sa lahat e yung puno ng tao sa isang kwarto
Puno ng tunog at salita
Puno ng biruan at tawanan
Pero ramdam **** maiiyak ka
Ramdam **** hindi ka nababagay sa lugar na naroon ka
Sa pagkakataong ito, hindi mo alam kung bakit hindi mo kayang makisali at magkunwaring masaya nalang
Kung sa mga nakaraang araw kinaya mo naman
Nakakapagod ano?
Nakakapagod magkunwaring masaya
Nakakapagod magkunwaring kaya mo pa
Pero alam naman natin
Eto yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin ng pahinga
Eto yung pagod na hindi kayang idaan sa alak o ng yosi man lang
Eto yung pagod na hindi kayang idaan sa maghapong hilata sa kama
Eto yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin o kahit dampi ng matinding menthol ng salonpas sa nangangalay na kasu-kasuan
Etong yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin ng efficascent oil na suki ng buong pamilya
Eto yung pagod na dama ng kaibuturan at kaluluwa
Eto yung pagod na mahirap punan ng lunas kasi hindi mo alam kung bakit ang bigat sa pakiramdam
Iyong pag napabayaan o mali ang diagnosis mo e pwedeng lumikha ng sanga-sangangang maliit at mas komplikadong dahilan ng kapaguran
Kung pwede lang mapawi ang lungkot sa bawat malalim na buntong hininga ang ngalay na dama ng kaluluwa
Yung tuwang hatid damay lahat ng parte ng kabuuan
Isama mo pa pati yung sangkatutak na split ends mas lalo na ang mga pimples na ayaw kang lubayan
Alam ko,  pagod ka narin
Sadyang nakakapagod lang talagang gumising sa umagang walang kulay
Sa mundong malawak at mapaglaro
Sa mga tulang isinulat pero walang laman
Sa mga nasambit na salitang wala man lang naantig
Sa mga matang blanko na walang ningning
Sa mga patok na banat pero hindi naman nakinabang
Sa mga mensahe sa inbox na puro lang chain messages ang laman galing sa kakilala **** di na umahon sa pagiging jejemon
Sa mga text ni Baby aka 8888 na pinapaalala kang expired na pala ang iyong load pero syempre biro lang hindi ka naman nagpapaload, expired na pala sim mo kasi isang taon ka ng hindi nagpapaload
Talaga namang nakakapagod ang mundo
Minsan nga nakakagago
Itulog nalang natin 'to, ano?
Ayan tayo e, dinadaan sa tulog ang lahat
Pero malay mo nga naman, baka sakaling sa mahabang paglimot sa mundo, isang panaginip lang pala ang lahat ng sakit
Hindi lang siguro dahil tamad kaya natutulog pero eto na marahil yung senyales ng pagsuko sa laban
Sa pagpiling takasan panandalian ang buhay at baka sakaling sa panaginip matupad ang nais ng puso
Kasi sa totoong buhay ang hirap tanggapin ang bawat sampal ng pagkabigo
Yung bang dalawang klase ng pagkabigo
Yung todo bigay ka sa una pero bokya ka parin
At yung isa naman, yung natatakot ka ng sumunggab at tinikop ka na agad ng takot
Beterana na nga ata sa larangan ng pagiging olats
Nganga kung nganga
Nada kung nada
Itlog kung itlog
Pero hindi pa tapos ang kwento
Malayo pa ang lalakbayin
May natitira pa naman sigurong alas dyan na di pa naitataya
Positibo naman ako na sa negatibong sitwasyon makakaalpas din
Lahat naman ng bagay lumilipas, parang yung paboritong pantalon na sa kakasuot unti-unting kumukupas
Tulad ng chika ng karakter sa pinapanood kong korean nobela, Fighting daw!
Minsan may pakinabang din pala ang pagharap sa telebisyon sa ganitong pagkakataon
Ngayon, alas otso medya ng gabi sinusulat ang mga katagang nais ilabas ng puso
Habang wala pang tugon mula sa itaaas
Salamat sa oras na tibok ng puso
Kakapit muna ako kay Captain Yoo
Sa seryoso pero nakakakilig na ugali,
Sa swabe niyang mga the moves,
Sa grabehan niyang mga titig,
At sa mala-fairytale nilang storya,
Captain, ako nalang please!
Ang huling pagkapagod kong nais ireklamo
Siguro sa paghihintay na may isang Captain Yoo Shijin na darating, na kikiliti sa pagod kong puso at magbibigay ng rasong ipagpatuloy ang labang kinapusan na ng dahilan.
Elizabeth Burns Nov 2018
How crazy...
Tomorrow
I would've written my first exam
of second year...
Now, tomorrow
I go home after
a whole month in hospital
Crazy how life can change
in one moment...
From one man's voice...
From three words...
From one diagnosis.
Nymeriari Jan 25
malamig sa isang silid
may kasamang pighati, saya at lungkot
sa bawat paghinga,
ramdam ang pagbagsak ng luha.

magkakahiwalay na tayo
sakit na tila kinukurot ang puso
sakit na walang ibang lunas,
kundi ang pagsasamahan nating nabuo.

sinulat ko ang tulang ito
para kahit ako'y lilisan na
maaari ko pang balikan lahat.
lahat ng alaala at samahan,

mga alaala na hindi ko makakalimutan,
katulad ng...
habang tayo'y naghihintay ng ticket
habang tayo'y nagbabasa ng email thread
habang tayo'y nakaupo sa isang silid

nagkukwentuhan,
nagtititigan,
nagmamasid,
naglalaro ng moba,
nanonood ng youtube,
nakahawak sa mga selpon.

na tila bigla bigla tayong natinag
sa mga boss na dumadaan
na kahit sa dami natin sa area
nagawa parin tayong turuan
at pag tiyagaan nila sir at ma'am.

napaka-lungkot lang isipin,
na ang ating samahan,
sa kathang-isip na lamang.

alam ko lahat naman tayo nakaramdam na ng lungkot
lungkot na hindi mo alam kung saan nagmula
lungkot na hindi mo alam kung ano ang dahilan
lungkot na hindi mo alam kung ano ang kinahihinatnan

pero ang pinaka-nakakalungkot sa lahat
yung puno ng tao sa isang silid.
puno ng tunog at salita 
puno ng biruan at tawanan
pero ramdam **** maiiyak ka
ramdam **** hindi ka nababagay sa lugar na naroon ka

sa pagkakataong ito, hindi mo alam kung bakit hindi mo kayang makisali at magkunwaring masaya nalang 
kung sa mga nakaraang araw kinaya mo naman
nakakapagod mag-isip.

pero alam naman natin
ito yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin ng pahinga 
ito yung pagod na hindi kayang idaan sa alak o ng yosi man lang
ito yung pagod na hindi kayang idaan sa maghapong hilata sa kama

ito yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin o kahit dampi ng matinding menthol ng salonpas sa nangangalay na kasu-kasuan
Ito yung pagod na hindi kayang gamutin ng efficascent oil na suki ng buong pamilya

ito yung pagod na dama ng kaibuturan at kaluluwa
ito yung pagod na mahirap punan ng lunas kasi hindi mo alam kung bakit ang bigat sa pakiramdam

iyong pag napabayaan o mali ang diagnosis mo e pwedeng lumikha ng sanga-sangangang maliit at mas komplikadong dahilan ng kapaguran
kung pwede lang mapawi ang lungkot sa bawat malalim na buntong hininga ang ngalay na dama ng kaluluwa

yung tuwang hatid damay lahat ng parte ng kabuuan
isama mo pa pati yung sangkatutak na split ends mas lalo na ang mga pimples na ayaw kang lubayan
alam ko, napapagod rin kayo
sadyang nakakapagod lang talagang gumising sa umagang walang kulay
sa mundong malawak.

pero nandyan ang ngiti na nakikita mo mula sa ibang tao,
na nakikita ko mula sa inyo.
ngiting kay gaan sa pakiramdam,
na tila nangangawit na ang pisngi dahil sa ayaw humupa ng ngiti.

Salamat sa mga binigay niyong mga ngiti.
Na nakakapawi ng pighati,
Salamat,
Salamat dahil naging parte kayo ng talata ng buhay ko.
#TSG #OJTdays
Addison René Feb 26
the same song
playing over
and over
again
repeated
repeated
repeated
repeatedly
swingin in
singing in
softly
immediately
discretely
sweetly
it crawls
it creeps
it falls
into your abyss
does it even
exist
Janelle Tanguin Feb 2017
Before everything

i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.

ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.

iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.

iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.

v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.

vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.

vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.

viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".

ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own ****, bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.

x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Zeeb Sep 2018
Black binders beside the linac, hold photos of those most ill
A diagnosis and a treatment plan, the last hopes of a woman or man

I fix the monster when it  breaks, so dutifully with a tool
When I get the call "The linacs down", for that I went to school

Something else will oft present, for when the beast is down
A delicate soul, silver nitrate marked, waiting patiently in her gown

So evident she is, and so sad to see.  All the women I love personified, compromised, humbled, made pitiful.

As for the binders, I'll sometimes note, what has changed today
The mom or dad of a once young boy, with whom I used to play
Yes never service linacs, in your own hood I will say

Each will have their turn in the beam
In desperate hope to be redeemed

And who'll be next on the cancer roll-call?
******* it, ******* it, seems like us all
Wade Redfearn Aug 2018
wind like a south wind carrying a plane south
deposits him, beneficiary of a backwards current
on a branch with nothing companionable in sight -
no answer, no voice to answer, no voice,
no alarm, no succor - just an afternoon
and nothing pressing. No urgent business,
maybe only the rigors of trying to prevent
there being urgent business later.
He's not all smooth. A little feather
cowlicked on his narrow jaw, and I don't know
how he bathes, what he eats, what he wants,
who would want to eat him. I don't really understand
anything that is going on around me. But look,
I understand more than him:
  the tree is dying.
Oak wilt blew in from Canada,
took a long time coming and finally cracked the veins
and this one is all bad on the inside, a meal of
corked-up flesh, big spongy patches and tainted roots
at the search.

(Amateur diagnosis. The tree is probably fine.)

There is a similarity neither tree nor bird know about.
Or his legs know it, and that message
is stuck somewhere. Or he's afraid.
The blighted oak is all fungus and refusal, and he:
his skeleton is spun from delicate copper.
If you open him up, he's like a penny -
pretty, and useless in this economy.
People and things always trying to get rid of him,
and he's listening because he knows it,
and he's singing because he knows it.

Open the tree up and the whole food chain comes down with it.
(Listen to your sweet flesh that wants to go on living.)

It's not a curse, not specifically:
just one fragile thing standing on another
but - count mercies -
too light to break it.

A basic brazier licking behind a splash of yellow, he chirrups.
His song comes from the throat.
His song is about something he saw once.
His song is unquestioned, muscle moving
without will.
  His plumage is mostly air
  And the tree is anchored in the ground
  by the very thing that chokes it,
and we're all standing together:
me, tree, bird. At least until
I finish my sandwich, packing the greasy paper in
a rectangle, with unquestioned neatness,
and leave whistling.
Malloh May 2018
Just a little
Tiny tiny tiny
Don't let them see
It's just a small-medium-large cut
Don't let them know
Throw out your breakfast-lunch-dinner
If they know, they'll scream
Your glass foundation will shatter
They'll leave you behind
You'll be locked away
Do you want to be alone again?
All alone in the dark?
It's quite scary isn't it,
Being alone with me
You know what you must do
Smile
Make promises
Lie
Act calm
Make up excuses
Do what you need to do
Stay out of the spotlight
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
AVOID
DON'T LET THEM SEE
IT WAS THE ONE RULE
THEY SAW
THEY SAW!
RUN
YOU MUST RUN
GET AWAY
HIDE HIDE HIDE DISAPPEAR
DON'T LET THE FIND YOU
SHRINK SHRINK SHRINK
BECOME SO SMALL THAT YOU CANNOT BE SEEN
KEEP RUNNING
YOU'RE SO CLOSE
JUST A LITTLE CLOSER
LOOK DOWN AT THE CRASHING WAVES
TAKE A DEEP BREATH
RELAX YOUR MUSCLES
J U M P


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[YES]             NO


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Name: Alec Crawford
Diagnosis: Depression. Anxiety. Violent Outbursts. Anorexia. Impulse Control Disorder.
Side Notes: Self Mutilation; Keep Patient Away From Objects Capable Of Harm. Occasional Ticks And Fidgets.
DOD: May 14, 2018.
Cause Of Death: Suicide; After Jumping Off Oceanside Cliff, Went Unconscious Upon Impact, Drowned.


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[YES]             NO


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I said to disappear, right?

Now I'll make sure they never know you even existed.
I think I'm going to continue making little character writings and have multiple parts for each character. Each part will be numbered.

Edit: I never expected this to get as popular as it did... I've been wanting to explain this one for a while now. The DOD was the most recent night that I planned to commit suicide. Instead, I made a character that was a spit image of me and let him do it instead...
Alethea Sep 2018
Losing my mind and my memory
Can’t shake this feeling of being empty
I detach to cope with the pain
Whilst I'm constantly burning with shame
I can’t get out of my head
I think I’d be better off dead
I’m losing control of my impulses
I love you, I hate you convulsions
I’m dreaming of a better time
One where the birds chirp and the sun shines
Until then I’ll keep fighting my mind
Hi, I’m Lathe and I’m borderline
Journal Entry #1
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