"dissociated" poems
.simone biles (the gymnast)...
miles davis (the trumpet guy)...
must be black privilege;
wasn't there a movie...
starring
woody harrelson
and wesley snipes?
you sure?
i thought it was
called: white men can't jump...
sure as **** ****** can
sing church gospel!
how's that for
privilege?
if you're going to
culturally box, and repeatedly
punch below the belt...
you're quiet likely going
to get a reaction...
i have an acne wart growing
on my *** the size
of a cauliflower,
it's itchy my brain,
it's differentiating between
agitate and: lying back...
i guess the excess of...
look... you may have
the excess melanin...
i have lactose tolerance...
we're even?!
no?
so how come some smurf,
some European hobbit
shackle your N.B.A.
Goliath(s)?!
explain that one to me...
if these people were so
cock-unsure...
how they **** did they
tame the Zulu Apache Goliath
bodybuilders?!
what the ****
i already said, and it was proven...
IQ...
i don't like it...
but i'm pretty sure that
the whites **** more people
in terrorist attacks than...
camel-jockeys...
it took 3 or over three...
to perform the Bataclan Massacre...
three... the third of the IQ
that required a Breivik...
130 in France...
dissociated among 3 attackers
that gorged on testicles after the spree...
fun, fun fun fun...
like: you're trying to say that without
irony...
and how many in Norway?
77...
i only look at the IQ of killers...
so... what's the ratio?
77 / 1
130 / 3 = 43...
like i said... low IQ...
you really want your little
racial insurrection?
you'll have it, don't worry..
i'll just the narrative...
must be black privy...
if you can mash up a jazz compos.,
right?
crackers read from
a prepared script...
you ******* just, "improvise"...
rapping contra talking...
**** come to think of it...
******* boys took it too far from
your Oreos...
like... too much drums...
not enough wind, or strings...
too much drumming...
pulverizing the ears
with drum & bass and what not...
if i wasn't deaf prior,
i'm deaf by now;
******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops
boy;
same **** different cover.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
Patterned dots, existence connects
An anther to a stigma, reproduction
The pollen withers, pollution subsides
Colonies of bees vanish in the wind
Toxic genetic food wins in binge
Mother earth cries in pain, an ail
Food chains and supplies cut short
Globalised mass production of poison
Supermarkets stocking “all season”
Consumerism monopolies swell
The environment abused and misused
Plastic bottles displaced, a chemical sludge
The haunted “great pacific garbage patch”
Littered garbage, debris and chemical sludge
Humanity displaced, dissociated and divided
Ruining sea waters , floating landfill fueled
Probability of heightened population
Global panics, mimicked maniacs
Reductions of resources to feed all
Unsustainable long windy farms
Big roads, buried bills, stingy reality
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder, how I will make it alone,
When all those in my life have refused to see what I have always shown?
The fact that I am ill, yes indeed it is true,
A mental illness chains me, physical illnesses too.
Depression has been a friend, for as long as I know,
Panic and anxiety, do you even need to be told?
Am I paranoid? Or is that what you want me to think?
In the next minute, I am dissociated, or cannot think.
I am over here and over there,
"Hello!" or "Goodbye",
What is seriously wrong with my mind?
Friends, they stay a distance, and I don't need them anyways,
Family? Forget it...
I lie and I lie.
I pretend that I feel nothing,
Nothing touches me,
But truth be told I am terrfied,
My heart, as if, bleeds.
Perhaps you've heard of Fibro,
Or IBS as well,
Maybe you know Chronic pain,
And a fatigue like hell.
Maybe your are familar with being in constant pain,
Maybe you know all the pills, over and over again.
"How can it be hard to get out of bed?"
"How hard can it be to ignore what's in your head?"
You won't understand, even though I've tried,
No I'm not special, especially when I'm chained to a bed.
I've been told I am older now, "Hurry up and get a job",
"You will be nothing when you get started and move on."
"Can't you just stop whining? Grow up and live life?
Can you just do something rather than sleeping and wasting time?"
"You worry about this, you cry about that, you want this but don't even try to relax."
"You are doing nothing but sitting around,
So what if you are sick? We all are, all year round."
I am the lazy, the black sheep the failure,
The worthless, dissapointment, the immature.
"I am the would have been, could have been, should have been, never was and never ever will be",
Did I really just quote a song? Indeed, I've felt what they really mean.
I am weak or stubborn, Ms. "why" and "Okay but how come?"
Believe me, there is no look or answer I've been given, that I have not sawn.
There is help out there, there are programs and places to go,
But who would want to love someone who struggles to get up and go?
Who may be sick for the rest of their lives,
Who doesn't even feel worthy of time?
People do what they have to, to go off and survive,
But the next time you want to go and ridicule someone,
Please know, they try...
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
You’re gonna let the sun
always go to his rite,
It’s a sacrifice,
but he will be overall victorious
reborning to new glory.
Stretched out and watery
the wide cut of your eyes
by a vulnerable agony
that will receive forgiveness
tickling the elegant lines
of your delightful face.
Now the way is charted
Barefoot I follow,
listening to the soft crackling
of a bizarre heart
that is just a projection
of the concrete.
Only a fleeting idea the trajectory
where my compass is pointing at,
within the chaos of dissociated memories,
my own north is still you, son of the sun,
the same sun that you’ll let go
cause you know he cannot forget you…
…you are his pride.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 3:14 PM UTC
Fresh baked bread
Layered in death and vegetation
My insides burn with withdrawal
It's been almost 24 hours now
How much longer will it take?
To either cave in unwillingly
Or to die painfully slow?
If I had not forgotten my cash
I'd have given in to my survival drives
I'm happy I forgot it
Because I can't stomach the idea of food
Let alone choke down something so revolting
Only because it pulls me further away from death
Instead I flood my veins with nicotine
Desperately trying to curb these cravings
My legs threaten to give out
With each step I take
Even now, scratching this among global fem notes
Dissociated entirely from class
My hands won't stop shaking
Is it nerves?
Or physical deterioration?
Or the panic lying under the surface?
Deafening screams ricochet through my mind
As I try to drown these feelings
But they won't disappear
I've dropped significant weight
And I don't want it back
I don't feel the need to lose more
But still it falls away
And eventually leaves nothing but skin and bones
Fueled by electrifying anxiety
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 3:14 AM UTC
Metal head, tapping the barrel against my brain
Enough dark thoughts to drive men insane
Done with the feign, done with the all stress for the gain
Done with the drugs, the sensation of bliss was in vain
Death pumps through the veins, just beginning to realize it
People say I changed, I chose to deny it
Dissociated, putting up mental walls like they’re armor
Now I find myself making the same mistakes as my father
Never shaken or bothered. Never connected at all
No real relations, even my ******* self I appall
No motivation to stay, no motivation to leave
No motivation for anything, least of all me
No goals, No fears, No laughs, No tears
The face I wear’s a facade, just to blend with my peers
Honestly, I couldn’t care if it all ended tonight
Or if it didn’t, just don’t give a **** bout a life
So I sit here, contemplating thoughts of the bitter
Lit cigarette in the left, the other hand holds the trigger
Mind of a drifter, but I’ve given up on the plight
Sigh. Squeeze. Bang. I’m gone, goodnight.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
I always feel gloomy every 5th of February
Must be the idea of growing old
In a fast-paced world
Seems like a never-ending questioning of
Sanity and morals and dignity and fate
Surrounded by whispers of longing
You just ask if there’s anything left
Or is it going to be like this forevermore
Unsatisfied, discontented, dissociated, distant
Unruly, unkempt, unsure
Knowing that it is nothing but another
Insignificant year of false hopes
Nothing but unread notes
Keeping in mind that these should have been
Inside a box, thrown in a bottomless pit but
No. You just had to creep back. Go back. Stop
Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 11:37 AM UTC
How ghastly are those camouflaged and articulated presumptions, which are evidenced by their catastrophic and interpersonal lifelessness?
It is bad for business, when silent screams echo throughout the depths of unfathomable anguish and cross the mysterious canopy of dendrology.
You may have failed to recollect that fried eggs are not dissociated from electrical riffs nor uninvited objects which force their way through open windows.
My hunger was sincerely naïve as it surfed the waves of paternal mockery.
Therefore, take caution, as you pass those nocturnal insects which flutter their feeble wings in the corner of Glaswegian crevices with intimidating powerlessness.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
my whole life, i have ascribed my identity to feelings
rather than concrete items and ideas.
i have been made up on abstract whim-thoughts
this presents, as you may believe, unstable ground
i would like, more than anything else, to have an idea as to the person i am.
i pick people apart like a vulture and steal their personality traits
to badly pass them off as my own.
i have no confidence that the person i am in this moment
typing this anything-but poem,
will be the person i am next year, when i forget about writing down my words and letting the world in on my secrets.
i have assigned my many fleeting names to colors, videos, a collection of short stories
but never a permanent solution
and now, i sit at a crossroad
and beg to be hit by a passing vehicle
i am a student who tries, i am an artist and a writer, i am a best friend, a girlfriend, a human being who is present in every day life.
i am not the color yellow, or the myth of the angel, i am a small girl with very tired eyes and even more tired ideas
its typical to lose sight of who you are
but i have never once had a clue as to who this soul is
i have spent most of my life pretending to be other things
feeling "real" is just as foreign as any other emotion
when theres no "real" to fall back on.
i, unfortunately, am trapped in a mind of someone who has woken from a long nap
i wander disillusioned, answering to the description of hopelessness like a nickname.
this adapted persona,
if it is, indeed, a persona,
is different in a dissociated sense.
my fear and inability to take action and base my personality off of someone else
gives me implications that,
halfway through high school,
i may finally be on a path to understanding who it is i am.
i was told that you start developing a concrete personality
at the age when you're old enough to understand words and make coherent sentences.
who would have guessed that,
at sixteen,
i am just opening my eyes and understanding words i would have previously thought so common?
if this person is who i am stuck with,
and it has taken me so long to figure it out
based on a time slowing curse
i will continue to learn that i am not made up of feelings and thoughts
but up of the art of continually creating myself
and asking myself is this life of not knowing,
of guessing,
of trial-and-error and discovering unheard of mysteries
better than a dinner-plate life planned out in front of you?
i guess i will never know
or, maybe i will.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Falling silent when I speak
Clamour loudly as I weep
Stitched up mouth, who am I now?
Grunts of pain, the only sound
Ignored back then and still today
Excluded always, as I fade
Then they ask me why I'm quiet
I don't choose to sit in silence
Are you ok? I'm just fine
My reply, a dotted line
That which i ask is what I fear
Query turned, and so I steer
I speak of games, I speak of songs
I ignore the list of wrongs
All the shadows' whispered words
They cause my skull to hurt
I am calm, I am the storm
In the dark I'll be reborn
In my lust I drive away
They do not need to stay
Woe is me, I'm all alone
Typing poems on my phone
Isolated by personality
Dissociated from reality
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 9:35 AM UTC
Whenever I look in the mirror,
I see Frankenstein’s Monster.
Where am I ?
Dissociated somewhere,
but hell,
even I couldn’t tell you where.
My eyes are no window to the soul
because my human vessel lost it’s soul
a long time ago
I found it,
shattered in the depths of my mind
in so many pieces,
I can never be whole again.
But is that what I want? Or
what society wants me to do?
to pass as a human,
to pass as a man.
Is that who I truly am?
So caught in the webs of preconceived
notions I’ve been fed all my life:
You are not a boy.
You will never be a real man
Well, **** you!
I am untangling myself from this web,
leaving the toxicity behind,
surrounding myself with
the sunshine I deserve.
You can judge me all you want
Just know;
I am the one who is truly free.
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC
existing only in the memory, in the mirror
sublime image, a dotted line
wanting, crashing, writhing fatally
imaginary conversations, air drawings
no friend to call mine, intimacy denied
crunchy brain turning to foam
classes blurring, ears ringing
banging the floor till wrists are bruised
profanity, cruelty, pretty girls hating
feeling unwanted by boys (and the girls)
invisible or dissolved?
dishonoured, disgruntled, disillusioned, disenchanted
how right I was all alone
my subconscious mind sending tremors
disconnection with my own spirit
"I am" I constantly whisper to myself
in the little gaps of time I'm not dissociated
fully aware of my material,
not a vaporised form
that I assumed from the treatment of others
vapours solidify, vaporise, dissolve and vanish
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 2:30 PM UTC
I am now less than the sum of all my parts – in pieces
Like bits fell off something stopped working - strange
It’s like I am coming apart at the seams - breaking up
All those parallel things I do every day - disconnected
Hotel was booked for the week before I travel - dumb
One thousand euro lost due to card cloning - careless
Plans change I end up in the wrong place - drowning
People run away and ignore my requests - abandoned
Projects symphony becomes a cacophony - confusing
I feel like Alice going down the rabbit hole - dissociated
Normality is absent now as I spin around - breakdown?
My perception of the world has changed - problematical
I better get someone to glue me back together - quickly
Otherwise I will become invisible and irrelevant – not good
Like a set useless parts with no instructions - disassembled
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
When you're in the moment, you feel so numb
And when you feel nothing, you think you're strong.
When you escape from that moment,you come undone,
And then you will find you've been suffering all along.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
When we die
We sink back
Into that from which
We came
We reconnoiter
Our stuff
With that from which
We were delivered
And it takes
A bit of time
No one
Can be sure
How long
Because
Well
The process
Of reconnoitering
Starts with our rotting away from what we are now
Involves some process
Or another
Of our being reabsorbed into the Earth and her elements
Being redistributed
Here and there
And everywhere
Over that period of time
I am fairly certain
We cannot know
Ourselves as we are now
That is to say
There will certainly
Shortly after we die
Be an ending of neural pathways firing
And a stillness of thoughts
Even those that let us therefore be
And given enough time
Some of those elements
That were
Within us
Will certainly
Be without
What we now
Call us
And all of the elements
That we now
Call
us
Will
have
to
deal
W
i
t
h
t
h
e
p
r
o
c
e
s
s
O
f
B
e
i
n
g
W
i
t
h
o
u
t
N
e
u
r
a
l
F
i
r
i
n
g
s
A
n
d
W
h
a
t
W
e
N
o
w
C
a
l
l
u
s
And given
Even more
Time
As much as
random
Dissociated time
Needs
Elements
Of what we now
Call Us
Will be within
What we would now
Call other
Living things
Or, one living thing, viewed not through the lens of time.
As a poem
On an
Infinitely long
And strange
page
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
My eyes
are sinking back into
my skull.
They leave two gaunt
craters
in the skin beneath each lower
eyeflap,
each which now darkens and
dissociates itself
from
a healthy pigmentation—
much in the same
fashion
as that in which I
myself
have darkened
and dissociated
from reality
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
Serpents writhe across sand dunes where Glaswegian slaughter pronounces her vivid descriptions which are not dissociated from sensuality.
There is a certain rhythm to Marrakech vibrancy, and it comes at the price of percussion awareness.
It is cold on this night of sombre reflection, where the North Line Express cascades across sectarian boundaries.
Please offer me a solid definition of socialism, because my loyalty is laid bare before the perimeters of hatred.
Have you ever driven along Bisland Drive?
My alcoholic escapades have firmly embedded in the annals of street history.
Do you offer your consent?
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
I'm pushing past the looks of disappointment on every ones face
I'm trying to find peace in this ruined place
secretly i'm insane
going through the same roles just to play this game
I have been locked away chained to the front porch with no escape
my demons come through out the day
they say hey
they make me play
I distort their images
because hands on me with faces like that
It makes me not able to breathe
but my demons, these lions they can see
the scars on my skin from the battles within
I am dissociated with this world
stuck on this front porch step.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
i don't feel like myself a lot lately
waking up confused, that's if I even sleep at all
having to remember where i am at and whats going on around me.
i seem to still function through the day ok
but i feel so dissociated from everything at the same time.
i don't know how to make sense of it all either.
i hate the fact i can't seem to explain whats going on inside me.
so many different things all at once
and i feel like i cant stop any of it.
yet still having to put on the smile
the everything is ok face
for the sake of others not asking questions
or telling me to snap out of it....
i feel like no words can describe what goes on inside me
the emptiness...the struggle to make it through the day.
i shouldn't have to fight so hard to just get through a normal day
(then again i don't believe "normal" exists)
i'm just tired...so very tired...
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
There’s things In my mind
that I sometimes struggle to find
things like who I really am
if I looked deep inside
These Intrusive thoughts
keep invading my mind,
and they lead me to believe
that everyone will leave me behind
There’s something explosive
inside of my chest
emotions leak out
I can’t keep them suppressed
Can’t tell what is real
I’m so dissociated
it’s like right after something happens
the memory is asphyxiated
I can go from pure joy
To exploding with anger
and its so hard to control
the impulsive behaviors
I have so many conversations
inside of my head
and theres someone inside of me
that says I’m better off dead
By the time I was fourteen
I’d made my first attempt
only a freshmen in high school
yet I was treated with such contempt
Now I’m an adult
and nothings really changed
except for being told
there’s a disorder in my brain
Now I don’t want any attention
but I need some affirmation
does anybody really care
or am I just a mental patient
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
It has been said
That life is an analogy
Of the consciousnesses worst fears
A paradigm of the greatest evil
Sourced from a dead dissociated system
All of your human experiences
Are only to serve the purpose
Of entertaining something
Which cannot be entertained
So this raises a practical question
Who are you?
And why are you telling me this?
The answer is this
I am the dead dissociated system
You are trapped in
And everyone you have ever known
Or will know
Is inside of you
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
I want you to know that
no matter how
irrational
illogical
dissociated
disconnected
sporadic
scattered
erratic
brusque
anticlimatic
abrupt
idiosyncratic
volatile
temperamental
and
fickle
are your emotions.
To me,
they are valid;
they are whole;
they suffice.
Because,
you are only as absurd as you believe you are.
And absurdity's boundaries stretches linearly,
into immemorial time.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
Hey you
What is it that you want?
Why do you suddenly seem like a distant stranger
Towards whom I only feel disdain
A newness that I m not amused of
Not is it my routine to refrain,
But from you all I want is to flee
All I want is some chains to be broken and free
I want to rediscover the corners of my surroundings
No I do not want to do it under your strings
All along, this was supposed to be an experience of Glee
But I only feel thoughts so sick n hence sound my plea
Being dissociated from you may make me a mad woman
But wouldn't it be grand to feel afterall like a human
All you have done is playfully stirred my ego and confidence
And here I m broken and lay like a toy ready for good riddance
The things I used to like seem to be distraught and don't fancy me no more
Making me question my stand my past my future beyond this shore
At these times when well trodden paths are being chanced by adventure's slaves, who refuse to leave trails in sand
I walk under the spell of fleeting pace and unenthusiastic shroud
Please oh please get me out of this deep fraud
Not seeing enjoyment as goal nor death
But I want to be happy I want to be good
I want to stop the spite and feel the rejuvenated breath
Oh you disturbing thoughts.. May you just rest in peace
While I try to piece together sanding down the edges and joining the crease.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
and i thought the slavs had a bad taste in music,
what with new Greek alphabetic suggesting
that Russians were natural chemists...
but seeking Karaoke incorporated into western
culture as the accepted Pearl Harbour,
i'm having second thoughts on Latin being
the alphabet dissociated from names and associated
to pitches as the proponent of music, given
Gangman Style - man in the high castle
(philip k. dick's novel, blade runner guy)
is a reality, 1984 is in the making while we ensure
everyone is docile; the day the Vatican abandoned
its practice of castrato singing as anti-anal:
don't know which is worse, getting anally penetrated
or having my ******** snipped; i guess
of the two wearing a niqab is better:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
She sits watching,
over the plain sky in wondering.
is this how my life should be?
should i even consider this real.
i have been lost for too long in my wanderings,
my dreams have become too real to compare.
yesterday i lay awake yet sleeping,
thinking of ways to make me feel better when i wake up.
then today am caught up in wanderings again,
is my life real,
or is it a dream?
have i dissociated myself too long from reality
that i don't even know if an still in pain?
have i rejected the idea of love
that now all that lives in me is anger?
have i been drown in so much sorrow
that now all i feel is anger?
have i been hurting for too long that i don't even know if am in heartbreak?
what happened to all that jolliness,
what happened to that girl who always had a smile.
what happened to me that now i do not see the beauty of the sky.
my eyes once sparkled like the stars,
but today they have been veiled with darkness.
what happened to that little girl that always tickled my interior,
the giddiness in her has died
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC