"misdiagnosis" poems
mother problems
chicken pox
asked my aunt
she replied
shower my mother with love and care
after many tries
chicken pox
appointment to the end
of chicken pox
sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay
drowsy drowsy
medicines
drowsy
shouts and screams
a clueless father
a I-dont-give-two-fucking-shits sister
exams over
results out
failed my favourite subject
HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE
chicken pox doctor
misdiagnosis
then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest
choreography for bollywood
tamil folk
parents were showering ill concealed parental
concern
went to support
ran ran ran
confused and nervous
of the entire world hating me
i ran. ran. i ******* ran
wash the dishes
cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking
extremely pms-y father
why the ******* hell did that happen
cooked
messed up dishes
ate dinner outside
whole family sick
syf prac horrendous
out of breath
trying to run
dinner outside everyday
people who didnt listen
people who didnt care about the dance
time limit
one week before kanal
havent finished choreography
CHICKEN ****** POX
came back to school
parents being ***
whole family down with chicken pox
mother working her *** off
she doesnt want any help
dancing dancing dancing
mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance
raffles diploma
performance
november performance
i couldnt dance
kicked out ruthlessly
kanal
five minutes before
a message no more such activities next year
marche dinner
screamed and screamed
out of breath
******* hole in my throat
ran ran ran ran ran
away from idiosyncrasies
raffles diploma
career choices
out of money
where did all the money go
where did all the money go
goals
fashion designer
parents : banker, scientist
work backwards from the goal
dance i want to dance
outings
2 days before
go on to khan academy
father only listens to himself
crushed bones
crushed ribcages
i cant breathe
still running
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
Saint Patrick's day
Two whiskeys six beers,
Getting ready for the night.
I wasn't ready.
My phone buzzing
Like a hummingbird
Stuffed in my pocket.
Suddenly I have friends,
It's so overwhelming.
Feels like getting cancer,
I hope it was a misdiagnosis.
Then I saw you.
I'm used to it,
But it's always just a ghost.
Tonight it wasn't,
And I wasn't ready.
You were buried years ago,
But **** you smelt the same.
As the day I threw the dirt on you.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
Unbelievable
Catastrophically beautiful
I reflect the many unusual
Aspects of numerous physical
Understandings of the usual
Misdiagnosis, I am the typical
One of a kind, somewhat mythical
Kind of creature, more suitable
For a reality that is musical
Oh, but you will see the perpetual
Cues that put you in a visual
Hologram of a disputable
Nature - it is unlike any future
Disputable, delusional, junior
Planet I have ever seen
And so I will lie here and dream
Of stars I will one day orbit, these
Desires to become, to just be
Without misplaced agony
Teaching lessons I suppose I need
But that is not all that is me
I will remember it is only
Moments like these
That will become forgotten,
Fleeting memories
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sometimes she wished
The little things would **** her
All the risks of
Surgery, skin cancer, and stupidity
Carried no weight
For she wanted so badly for
The little things to **** her.
She caught herself daydreaming
Of the possibility that today
Would never lead to another tomorrow
That way the little things -
The sudden and accidental car crash,
The one in a million lightning bolt,
The simple but fatal misdiagnosis
Could rescue her.
For her, death was not to be feared.
How could it possibly be worse
Than the concept of life -
Waking each day hopeful
Going to bed each night disappointed -
Disappointed in herself for failing
To outrun the bitter criticism
She imposed on herself.
So cowardly.
So weak.
So broken.
Pathetic.
And so she kept wishing
For the little things,
Hopeful
That they'd save her from
The bigger things:
Her regrets, her failures, her emptiness
But as always
She was disappointed.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 6:52 PM UTC
Deceit, false flags waving.
Accusations, Gavel of Injustice.
Apate controls your mind.
Mentiras, Você mente.
Crying witches
bodies in the river.
Forest rituals
laughter and dance.
The Crucible, great Aurther.
White coated, glass-eyed
Judge John Hawthorne, you are.
Don't believe Abigail Williams
Salem witch trials commence.
Screaming ****** ******
Witchcraft! Sociopathy!
Don't throw me in the river.
Believe the innocent.
5 lives, central park 5
liars are adults, kids are angels.
Don't throw me behind bars.
Erro de diagnóstico.
White walls, white lies
empty promises, filled pockets
lamb in wolf´s cave.
Happy little pills.
Serotonin, mess up his mind
make him an empty shell.
**** him up, porque quem se importa.
White angel in white hell.
Josef Mengele, don't touch me
evildoer, you are. **** salute
go back to screaming Heil ******
Touch me once, I will resist.
Tell me twice, I will talk.
Tame me thrice, I will scream.
Trail of final letters, suicídio.
Feb 1, 2020
Feb 1, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC
Maybe I’m too simple
or too shallow
but I’m not angry.
What’s wrong with me?
I was trying to think
of someone I hate,
Jews, CIS guys, republicans,
palestinians, blacks, democrats,
the left handed, authority figures,
central americans, parents, vagrants,
the usual suspects, but I’m coming up empty
Things aren’t perfect
don’t get me wrong
I’ve got a pug nose
a flat chest
a giant forehead
and too much work to do
but I’m trying my best—
Worse yet, I’ve no plummeting anxieties
no obvious neurosis
—that one could be a misdiagnosis
no painful hangnails
no sad life tales
no addictions to defend
or hated ex-boyfriends
I have no emo hooks to pin my verse.
no current melodramas to cozen and coerce
between you and me, I think I’m off the rails
It’s really no wonder my poetry pales.
Yeah, that’s what’s wrong with me.
.
.
Songs for this:
Gee, Doctor by Dimie Cat
Sweet Lovin' (feat. Anna-Luca & Iain Mackenzie) by Club des Belugas
Feb 1, 2025
Feb 1, 2025 at 11:47 PM UTC
I'm starting therapy again today,
I'm nervous and excited
but wondering what to say,
I don't want another misdiagnosis
Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 2:00 PM UTC
Eternally looking for a cure
Stuck in an obscure prognosis
This placebo is a double detour
To a self misdiagnosis.
Half of my heart is a bare bone grave
Whatever's left is in paralysis
A quarter of my mind cannot be saved
From your creeping psychosis.
You overdosed me in epinephrine
But you caused this anaphylaxis
You left me low in serotonin
Induced in a shotgun hypnosis.
You walked into my life like a virus
Spreading your love like a disease
Now I rot in this one-man circus
Forever chasing my catharsis.
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 4:18 AM UTC