"irritability" poems
mania means blackouts.
the violent situation
mania.
all the symptoms were there.
short fuse.
irritability.
full blown,
mania.
all of the time.
mania.
i couldn't sleep.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
All it took was one look
One memory
One flashback
One feeling
I'm back again
I remember it all.
The sadness
The irritability
The feeling of worthlessness
The feeling of impending death
The breakdown...
I'm back again.
And this time may be the last.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
I get Grumpy.
That is to say,
I understand the dwarf.
Not that I don't get grumpy.
That is to say,
Become irritable.
In fact that is what we have in common,
Grumpy and I.
We both become irritable.
Except it's not that we are grumpy,
Grumpy and I.
Not really.
Grumpy and I are sick.
But people don't realize it,
Because it is not in the Sneezy kind of way.
Depression makes people,
And at least 1 in 7 dwarves,
Become irritable.
We get grumpy about ***** things,
Yell at our families,
Then get mad at ourselves for being grumpy.
There are other symptoms too,
Like being sleepy or sad.
But irritability is often overlooked.
What Grumpy and I really need,
But we're too Bashful to say so,
Is to see a Doc.
Because all any of us want,
Grumpy or not,
Is to be Happy.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 3:37 AM UTC
Your words secretly lure me into your heart,
an art to restart,
my life from your point of view.
The tears of my past evaporate,
to create,
a life where you set me straight,
as my heart slowly inflates, as I fall in love.
I hold on tight,
slightly fright,
but your smile excites me letting me know it will be alright.
Explaining to myself that it won’t be perfect,
you have this effect,
that disconnects,
my brain from my heart,
as my heart takes over the whole aspect of love.
You,
sweet with a high irritability,
with the agility to catch me before I shatter on the ground.
My fragility,
quickly erupts as your arms curve around my flexibility,
telling me I have found, the one.
But even through the storms,
my soul reforms,
to make me a better person,
not only for me but for you.
As it transforms,
it informs us,
that our relationship is something out of the ordinary,
that we have worked hard to pursue.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
If Little Debbie was real, I'd never be sad.
Her very presence could rid this world of all things bad.
Her perfect cakes drive away responsibility
By forcing me to focus on my bowel irritability.
If Little Debbie was real, I'd never feel lonely.
I think her stuff makes any place more homely.
With every bite I take, I gain a pound
But that's alright because no one's around
To see me for the lonely fat girl that I am
Who often mixes cucumbers with bananas and jam
Surely it's not just me who awakes and thinks
"Forget the eagle! Little Debbie is our national link."
For I believe there is nothing more patriotic
Than relying on something that's abiotic.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
Kind,
Shy, funny man,
Did the best that he can,
To raise me to be what I am,
Beautiful baby girl,
Smiling every second,
What everyone wants in the world
Years pass,
Daddy always there,
Doing the best he can,
Raising me to be the way I am
Beautiful baby girl,
A baby no more,
Middle school,
Troubled;
Diminished smile,
Daddy where are you?
No reply
Daddy's soul has left his eyes
No more doing what he can to raise me how I am,
Doing what he can,
To stop the voices in his head
Searching for cameras,
In the walls,
Paranoia controls his all,
Delusions
President,
Police,
Mom,
Everyone out to get him,
Stumbling upon his daughters sketchbook,
Sketch unfinished;
Headless body
Voices,
Convincing to be dismembered,
Out to get him;
Dismember him,
Paranoia growing,
Irritability as well,
Mommy a victim,
Strangled, breathless,
By a body with no soul
Life flashes amongst her eyes,
Children being married,
Awakes,
Escapes,
Daddy's alone,
In a mental home
Not for long,
Returns with medicine to fix the harm
Daddy?
Void of soul replaced
Stability,
Daddy regained,
Medicine disposed,
Voices grow,
They're going to **** me,
The 9th,
Facing doom,
Departure to a highway overpass,
Aimlessly walking,
The edge
Concerned bystandards,
Authorities called,
Shouting,
Scared,
No way out,
A fall,
A crash,
Daddy,
Is dead.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
If any of the following side effects occur while taking prednisone, check with your doctor immediately:
More common
Aggression
agitation
anxiety
blurred vision
decrease in the amount of *****
dizziness
fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse
headache
irritability
mental depression
mood changes
nervousness
noisy, rattling breathing
numbness or tingling in the arms or legs
pounding in the ears
shortness of breath
swelling of the fingers, hands, feet, or lower legs
trouble thinking, speaking, or walking
troubled breathing at rest
weight gain
Incidence not known
Abdominal or stomach cramping or burning (severe)
abdominal or stomach pain
backache
****** black, or tarry stools
cough or hoarseness
darkening of skin
decrease in height
decreased vision
diarrhea
dry mouth
eye pain
eye tearing
****** hair growth in females
fainting
fever or chills
flushed, dry skin
fractures
fruit-like breath odor
full or round face, neck, or trunk
heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous)
increased hunger
increased thirst
increased urination
loss of appetite
loss of ****** desire or ability
lower back or side pain
menstrual irregularities
muscle pain or tenderness
muscle wasting or weakness
nausea
pain in back, ribs, arms, or legs
painful or difficult urination
skin rash
sleeplessness
sweating
trouble healing
trouble sleeping
unexplained weight loss
unusual tiredness or weakness
vision changes
vomiting
vomiting of material that looks like coffee grounds
Some prednisone side effects may not need any medical attention. As your body gets used to the medicine these side effects may disappear. Your health care professional may be able to help you prevent or reduce these side effects, but do check with them if any of the following side effects continue, or if you are concerned about them:
More common
Increased appetite
Incidence not known
Abnormal fat deposits on the face, neck, and trunk
acne
dry scalp
lightening of normal skin color
red face
reddish purple lines on the arms, face, legs, trunk, or groin
swelling of the stomach area
thinning of the scalp hair
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
lovely, these pages I sew
for sadness I know not to tamper with like a joke -
a sick joke that people find amusing.
I do not find that kind of joke, or you to be amusing.
I clasp my hands tightly together, interlocking knuckles
and sit very still while the company is antsy to inspect
me for any weakness.
(I am always assuming everyone is out to judge me so rashly)
I am straining my back and the very moment I slouch,
I will fall into the pit of self-irritability,
yelling at myself because my bones persist on frangibility.
God! am I ever good enough?!
(I am always judging myself so rashly)
I want to buy myself a cottage near a swamp, hoarding
the repugnant slime near my fireplace cozied up reading a book.
you may trespass; I am willing to share this (hell) with you
if you wish to get so close to me.
I do though, (at my best) suffice
lingering around buying myself something nice (you could put it)
when I'm aggravated, I tend not to listen
not even to my own advice.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
Anger, discontent
are like a house
after work
some place where you wrap yourself
in a security blanket
of irritability
hungry for touch
but misanthropic
can't taste lust
but for the One Unobtainable
can't help her
can't detach
only recourse, lash out
Anger is like a house
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
.*but i wasn't obviously going to go far down this "worrisome" route for too long, maybe like ten minutes... i had to think of something relaxing to do... i looked in the mirror: **** the wild-man of Essex! beard, shaggy, the neck barely visible... hair like Mozart composing, or as the Poles say: hair like a wkuriony Chopin ****** off Chopin)... **** better do something about it... ah... there's only one thing that can lighten my mood and this whole, tirade... a visit to the local traditional Turkish barbers... so i ****** off... in went the wild-man of Essex... out came well-groomed human being, not a sign of his werewolf past to be seen on him... ah... this is the 4th time, proper, that i visited the barbers (prior to? long hair... after? a shaved head like a Buddhist monk)... god... just sitting there with closed eyes... i'm starting to think that going to the barbers is better than ***
i was never into blocking someone,
esp. if someone is liking your stuff,
but it happened to me with
that poetess on here,
i wanted to know how it feels,
to just randomly block someone
who really enjoys your stuff...
and then... **** gone, never
to be seen again...
Wattpad is basically a fascistic website
to boot this thread of thought...
who the hell gets booted off a platform
for starting a cordial conversation?
- but i really did wake up with
a moral hangover...
excuses?
irritability...
there's just a certain level of
conversation i can take,
i can't get the pedant
out of me... i really can't...
i tried and i tried,
notably because when speaking
to natives, i see them lazily doing this
or that, while i come with an acquisitive
perspective, hence the furthered
acquisitive impetus to further this
acquired language... while the natives
are like: blah... it has been given to them
from birth...
and conversations,
after having completed a...
well for me it was an exhausting poem,
the desire to finish it before off
the rails with the bourbon instigated
a thirst, matched with irritability...
**** i hope i can unblock the guy
and apologize...
spare of the moment thing...
well... if i can't...
i know what it feels like:
not being on the receiving end...
so... that's one plus from all of this.
p.s. that sort of direct messaging language,
aged... 40?
how can i talk to someone
who's older than me, on that level...
(looks up his profile page)...
huh?
so i didn't block him?
*Dennis Willis's profile is not
visible because they have blocked you.*
and i still have the block option
handy...
mind you... i didn't wake up today
recollecting some pretty
trippy ********
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
She comes to me
bleeding inside
from a thousand
individual scars
with pleading eyes
self contained
She speaks in gentle
refrains
"I don't know where
I'm going
I don't know who
I've become
I go through the motions
deaf, blind and dumb
I dance on cue
I stand in line
I've tried to be so
good.
I've left behind the darkness
I've forgiven the past
I'm far too aware of time
It doesn't matter really I don't mind
I wish I could tell
you what I find
The struggle between
my internal world
condemnation
irritability
judgement
fears
heartaches there, vile rages, petty hatreds
*** dancing on the head of a
pin
exquisite laughter
it's all there.
While my behavior is quite the
opposite
accommodating, loving, compassionate
flirtatious, curious
connection is my goal
When I'm alone I'm lonely
when together suffocated
the best distance is
from here to there
I wish I could tell
you that I mind
The storms still
come and go
luck rides the
tides
each day the
sunrise
This human stuff
is all too real
it creeps up on you
so you don't know
how you feel
Which is why I've
come to you to
speak my mind
they say you are the
complaint department
the garbage collector
I'm bleeding inside
from a thousand scars
that's not to say I really mind."
They say the healer
must heal themselves
so of course I ask
"How can I help you?"
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
Where am i ?
What i'm doing here ?
I'm looking through my shadow
But what do i see ?
Black soul , maniac thoughts
How am i still living ?
I'm "almost" destroyed mentally
Physically strong as rock
Why can't i control myself ?
I'm so insecure , immature
I'm having Schizophrenia
Dementia praecox
Fundamental derangement of my mind
Probably caused by an emotional disorder
Emotional illness affecting in my personality
I'm Neurosis , Neurasthenic
Nerve dysfunction
I'm walking away
To forget all this pain
To walk and never get back
Part of my body already dead
I don't know if i'm going to survive
From this midlife crisis
This is nothing that elapsed
I'm sure it's just the beginning of hell
Half spent
Not much left
That's how it used to be
That's how it going to be
Struggling with desease
Smiling is hard but easy
As much as slutty
Psychotic confession
Irritability
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
Your voice is ragged from all the singing
Screaming empty prayers at the ceiling
Its a raspy thing thats course and thick
But flows like water over me
Like your hands
Who have done too much hitting
Too much running
Too much bouncing off walls
To ever be innocent
Your voice holds a note of constant misery in it
Like the eyes of bereaved parents
Or the voice of people suffering from chronic back pain
Neck pain
Leg pain
Its the sound of a thousand setting suns
All at once
Different colors
You’ve done too much singing boy
Too much running, partying, working playing
Too much living boy
Too much livin’
Your voice has a hint of irritability in it
Something dark in colour
thick like syrup
sour like lemons
Your voice has a taste of bitterness in it
Man-child boy, farmer kid
A sense of stability
Certainty about it
Its a statement to all of the things you have lost
And hey you're still livin'
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 5:23 PM UTC
I sit on top of my rooftop
eating honey and smelling flowers
wishing on the stars and the
cracks in the pavement
for a chance to become a bee
if you want to give up, go ahead
I'll try to pick up the
pieces as best I can
but just know I'll
always put myself first
besides of course
when I put you before everything else
which will happen fairly often
if not always
but other than that
it's about me
I know you are sick of my
indecisiveness and irritability
and I know nobody thinks that I
notice when I start to spin out
but I really can feel the difference
in the same way
I can tell what color a rose
is by the way it smells
and the gender of the
bee by the way it stings
on my pessimistic days
I can tell if a rose is dead
by how bad the thorns
make my fingers bleed
there are talents behind
this shaking knee
and inability to sleep
ones you will never see
If you are having a bad day
I can try to help it turn around
but just know once I start
I'll never stop
x
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
My spirit wants to do right, but the flesh is unwilling to comply. That's why it must die. Daily. Crucified. All the affections and lusts, crushed with the weight of his Spirit hear to comfort mine own until this mind disownes every thought that exalts itself against the one on the Throne. Adonai, El Shaddai, Elohim, thou most High, Prince of peace, never cease, to amaze, the Blood connected to the earth and awoke men out of graves/I refuse to be sinfully enslaved, hiding in dens and cavs like the ones his goodness tried to save...I understand you Paul, you did what you didn't want to and didn't do what you should have did, yet the Master forgives. I wanna live burden free, no hurt in me, I don't want to subconsciously hold on to the flair of dramatics, rejecting a life lived peacefully while repetitious requests prayed vainfully asking God to take the pain away yet rejecting his orders so the pain can stay. In a twisted way, some people depend on there own misery, no matter how much they complain about it. Because its either what they know best or all they know, and familiarity can be a mental, emotional and spiritual ******* that most...can't let go...well Lord im willing. I'm willing to let go of the past that you already have a long time ago. I'm willing to see myself through your eyes. I'm willing to allow you to turn this anger into joy, this easy irritability into long suffering, this pride into honor, false humility into the one we clothe in..im willing to allow all the pain the sting of rejection gave me over the years, to place shamelessly in your healing hands, im willing to give you the violin, that I've used to play the songs for every pity party thrown within, Upon personal request, while partly oblivious, to the world around me is dying in sin. Lord, continue to help me locate the man I was always suppose to be. Reveal him to me. Describe him to me. Develop me into him. He's been waiting for my embrace for too long. And I'm ready..to put away Childish things..
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC
Withdrawl means different things for different drugs.
For my drug it means irritability, headaches, and hunger.
There are ways to prevent it.
I could chew sunflower seeds or **** on a lollipop or ride a bike.
But I'd rather smoke.
I'd rather pick a half smoked cigarette out of an ashtray, lightly burn the end of the filter (to **** germs. Gotta keep it healthy.) and smoke it, than chew sunflower seeds.
I'd rather jump out my window at two AM, walk two blocks, reach into the cab of a pickup and take a pack of cigarettes than **** on a lollipop.
I'd rather ditch school, say I'm too sick to go, stay home and smoke cigarettes and read a book all day, than ride a bike.
And I do.
And I do.
And I do.
Yes, I do.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
Rattling of a pill bottle fill the silence
And I don't realize how desperately
I long for anything but the silence
Until it's gone.
What is wrong with me?
I'm holding on to how things used to be
Because letting go has never been my thing
But I think it's time,
And I'm scared
Letting go means finding more to fill that,
Silence
And I'm not sure I can.
I'm not sure I can...
What is wrong with me?
Barely a week clean
And I'm already craving
When can I stop this **** self hatred,
And learn to love myself?
As opposed to harming myself.
What is wrong with me?
Why do I always jump to feelings of anger, sadness, and irritability?
Why do I long for physical pain so intensely?
Why do my thoughts of self loathing present so vividly?
What is wrong with me?
I'm a tragedy, really.
A piece of artwork, pulled apart at the seams
A kind heart that's torn up, scratched and bleeding
But you could never tell, for looks are deceiving
What is wrong with me?
I have help.
I know people care.
But the last person also told me they'd always be there,
And where the **** are they now, definitely not here
And I know not everyone's the same,
But it's one of my biggest fears
What is wrong with me?
I long for the day
Tears spill from my eyes
My heart's ripped into pieces, and I'm feeling betrayed
But the last thing I wanna do is reach for the blade
Because I'll be stronger than that.
But letting go has never been my thing.
So I'm stuck holding on to how I used to think
What the hell is wrong with me?
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
To use a quote that encapsulates my feelings right now,
“I'm tired of this back-slappin' "isn't humanity neat" ******** We're a virus with shoes.”
― Bill Hicks
The Poem
Originally I thought I suffered from irritability,
irritability of the human race.
Then I realised whilst looking at my face, it was hate.
I told the Doctor I'd thought of suicide, then realised
I wanted to commit mass homicide.
Become a hermit.
Mankind, womankind I hate you, people think me nice, fair,
and kind, I know the truth, I am a ******* so you must be too.
We as a race need a cull.
Do I like the human race? No. What's to like?
I even dislike people that purport to be friends.
I intricately step my way through this world of vermin.
We defile what is beautiful and true, hate because we
are taught to. Ruin, start wars, cause pain, then moan about the rain!
We as a race are quite crudely put, a pile of ****
but even **** has purpose, a role.
What role do we have? To hate one another?
If so please make it equal and adhere to political correctness,
by that I mean, Hate Everyone equally.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
I been bestowed this burden
Hiding inside
Controlling my actions
Dictating what I do
And don’t do
Limiting my flexibility
Adding to my irritability
Causing physical pain
Adding to my mental distress
Complicating my relationships
What makes her and them better than me?
Why don’t they all suffer like me?
What makes me deserve this burden
I thought I was doing good
Doing what you wanted
Shedding the excess
Adding to the overall condition
But it’s a cheap trick
I been bamboozled back to square one
Its so hard to keep a smile on my face
Knowing what I know inside
Lashing out even though they don’t know
The ones who know don’t provide support
Or assistance just pressure and blame
They just say its heriditery
In your genetic line
I just want it gone
But then you tell me
What I would miss
As if I could miss this
Painful embarrassing controlling condition
And look with disgust because
I rather be barren
(c) ANBP 3/25/11
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 9:08 PM UTC
one should know
how powerful a sigh is
a long to quick release of breath
in silence
or loudly
speaks volumes as it is
a release of a heartbreak
or a white flag waved
a release of a soul breaking at its core
a release of a tired mind
or an emotion at turmoil
it could be a sign of apathy
damning the world as it is
or a sign of annoyance or irritability
a sign she can't handle anything
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
**** imagery.
What have the faded stars
ever done for me?
**** metaphor.
The cave that’s black
without my torch.
**** simile,
like ****** timing
and mistresses.
**** rhyming.
I’ll say to you,
just keep climbing.
**** alliteration.
I’ll illustrate irritability
inked in inevitability.
**** me, because
I love the stars
painted on the cavern walls,
mysterious midnight rendezvous,
digging my fingers into rock and dirt
like fish love to flirt with waterfalls,
but most of all I love to set
your sails atop my sea,
who pirates named,
our poetry.
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 7:33 AM UTC
Can't we just put a cork,
up there.
To stop the bleeding,
and ickyness,
and maybe even the
cramps.
It is a hassle and just puts such a damper on my life.
Makes things mundane and awful,
I can't wait for it to be over,
and for the exhaustion to
end.
The fatigue, irritability, and-
did I mention the cramps?
Where's the pay off here?
What do I get for suffering through this
on a monthly basis,
since 13!?
Silver-lining, my ***
The perks seem to be seriously lacking here,
so where is the cork or some midol
to ease the pain,
maybe even a heating pad...?
5 more days,
the countdown
has begun.
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 12:43 AM UTC
I say there is no physical beauty.
This skin, this flesh, this bone
are but the clay of which we make our beauty,
the instrument on which we play our beauty.
Witness the failure of funeral directors to please true aesthetes:
the dead Ingrid Bergman lacks the beauty of a living bag lady.
Tennis masters
given K-Mart rackets
win gracefully,
while the high-school violinist
playing a Stradivarius
fails to delight us.
Thus noses, lips, ******* have no beauty in themselves.
Perfect features are easily distorted by
anger, sloth, irritability, or conceit.
But in a rare few
energy, grace, composure, and sensitivity
are blended in such a quantity
that they overflow
and color with an exquisite beauty every pore of the body,
fill with a subtle music every gesture, every word.
I say there is no physical beauty.
This skin, this flesh, this bone
are but the clay of which we make our beauty,
the instrument on which we play our beauty.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC