"psych" poems
constant paranoia
sleepless nights
bustling hospital halls
trust me
this is nothing less than horrific
after attempting to end it all
"take me home"
i whisper to no one
through my silent tears
staying in a psych ward
for just one week
felt like several years
all i can do
is worry
about if anyone will care
i think they believe
that they would be better off
if i was no longer there
my week in the hospital
was heart-wrenchingly
bleak
everyone says
it made me stronger
but i feel immensely weak
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
It been a while now I'm back,
playing the beat on a track,
Lyrically I attack,
I'm an M C,
So naturally,
That's how I react,
You might not get my psych,
goin ape shyte crazy,
chasin these monkeys of my back,
I guess opposites still attract.
Rapidly rapping raps,
spitting facts,
I'm what these other cats lack,
cut from another cloth,
Can't cut'em no slack,
This rifts, rat,
I'm way better than that
I master my craft
Like captain kirk taking a bath
higher than an aircraft
Plotting my path
like a hovercraft
Fully prepared for the crash.
These other guys, think they fly,
I just laugh. They get puff up,
While I pass by, getting
Roughed up, crossing my path
Iooking like ironman with this mic in my hand,
Feels like I'm hold a staff.
Like a titan, I clash.
I am the better man,
check my clasp,
I got a better plan,
Better lyrical grasp,
I'm so smooth,
These other rappers, rap sound like ***
I land minds, no gymnastic class
my geographic quadgraphics better than a veteran
with a can of V8 in his hand
Still crazy from the war,
tasted the blood of a warrior,
Now I'm thirsty for more.
I'm dropping bombs like the army core in 94
With more confidence than Al b sure on tour
Finding common sense scattered all over the floor
Picking up feed back on channel 4
Turning the microphones up,
Then slam it to the floor,
Cause I don't want to rap anymore,
Back and forth I go,
It's all a part of the flow,
I'm just putting on a show,
rhythm book, pinned up,
It's a wrap, flow after flow,
Pulling up, getting my spins up,
The treble and bass doing chin ups,
While I'm spitting rhythms galore,
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
****** affliction of a lack of affection companion
Hand and hand strolling greater than syrupy plunging
and even sometimes buddy shrugging over wooden noisemakers
We whistle with their metal strings
and through the pasta soft ones in our throats
but no nest colored mares seem to hear
our flamboyant feather calls for future fondling
So I scribe slight implied short letters
invites to drink joints and nature jaunts
All too well thought out
hoping your advanced technology cannot trace
the time I spent to type
The overanalysis of our psych: her and I’s
wondering why she doesn’t have an inkling
for a cute fall date where we attempt to bake apple pies
It’s all too contrived, I know
I’ll strive for delusion
Accept a useful interpretation for our chemical inflammation
and let sparks pass it by
Like itsy bitsy flies laying eggs in a wound
for stagnant water maggots
They’ll eat away the thought well
where all my cranial zaps seem to dwell.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Sun up till sun down
Trapped in a perpetual frown
Moon comes then she goes
Drops free fall from my nose
Waking hours in the daylight
Aimless motions; clumsy, puppet-like
Waking hours in the night
Uncomfortable in my own skin and psych
Sleeplessness be my companion
Restlessness be my actions
Despondence be my demon
Crest fallen be my reason
Frantically sifting through my head
Vertically upright or supine in bed
Compartmentalising might be key
To fend off self inflicted insanity
Desperation hangs overhead; ripe and bruised
Excuses upon excuses ridiculously overused
Furiously typing before my mind curds
Hopes of finding peace in these unspoken words
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
Horrid and morbid, bitter, glittered and littered memories! Automotives, adaptive captives, movies, motives, Natives, locomotives, obsessive and possessive. Some awesome, brilliant, different, ignorant, persistent and resilient. ****** and exotic! Some memories are eccentric, fantastic, futuristic, magic, logistic, optimistic,
plastic, realistic, tragic or sadistic. Some random sizes with hidden prizes! Blameful, gainful, lameful and painful. Dreary destinies, diaries, inquires, weary rivalries, stories and theories in memory.
In theory, memories made from cheers and fears, jeers and tears!
Of amends, amens, omens, gems, hymns and stems. Memories
abbreviated and dedicated, deviated and medicated! Memories cased,
edited and erased. Evangelically, eventually everyone inherits! They’re like tiny merits! They spike the psych. They strike and are unlike. Memories of bites, defects, dislikes, effects, fights, flights, insects, logics, neglects, objects, plight, projects, protests, recollects, reflects
rejects, respects and suspects. Memories of fate and hate! Some are not great. Memories of schemes, screams or themes of dreams that seem. Memories of small, memories of tall! Memories in despise, memories
of lies. Memories of wise; beyond the skies, as I close my eyes…
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
Gotta take a ‘selfie’ before I’m outta bed
Mum calls me down for breaky - Open Facebook up instead
My sister dobs me in – I tell her to take a hike
Quick up load the photo, and hope I getta ‘like’.
Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’
Dad says it isn’t healthy, my sister says I’m ‘psych’
Take my Ipad into class, gotta get the high score
English teachers raving – But poetry’s a bore
She catches me on ‘chat room’ and takes away my phone
Beg my friend for last year’s modal, I gotta getta loan.
Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’
Dad says I should get healthy- I take a gopro on my bike
Grumble to my parents – Life just isn’t fair
I haven’t got my Iphone and no one wants to share
Mum doesn’t want to hear it, she has no sympathy
Just as well there’s X-box, and by Mp3
Gotta take a ‘selfie’, gotta getta ‘like’
Don’t tell me to think healthy, I think my brain’s on strike.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
***11 days, I spent in grey hospital socks
wandering halls bare, not even clocks
17 girls, all torn and broken inside
opened our wrists, drank cyanide
"behavior heath", but we knew was psych
held wandering souls, all pale and ghostlike
sat in a circle, we shared and we cried
of times we stole, drank, smoked and lied
stories of **** abuse and pain
somehow all one and the same
different faces and different lives
but most chose to end it with knives
but failure brought us all to this place
to learn a new name, gain a new face
fed us some pills and watched how we'd do
if we'd scream and suddenly turn blue
but only a few continued to fall
and theirs are the saddest stories of all
my heart broke each night as I sat and heard
one of the girls minds became blurred
still even now, I shed a tear
for every lost soul, that we never hear***
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
I don't want to go a
gentle journey,
from convoluted to
convalescence.
I quit drinking again;
found love in
the psych ward.
She's my broken-winged
angel.
So much pain behind that
sweet smile.
She's drinking again,
and I can't fix her.
It hurts, like an arrow
through the stomach.
I have a rabbit that comes
to my yard.
She lies in the same
spot every day.
So much so, that
she has worn down a
place for herself--the surrounding
grass grows around her.
She feels safe.
I feed her spinach, and my
brother sings her
show tunes.
That's what we get
for having a drama
teacher for a father.
Thanks, Dad.
It's been an unseasonably
cold April.
I feel sorry for Harvey;
That's her name, thanks
again Dad.
I talk to her softly.
"Hi, baby--what are you doing?
Do you want to come in?"
She doesn't answer. I'm sober.
I want to take care of her...
Both of them...
My two little bunnies.
It's cold, and the wind is
blowing hard,
beneath a mean grey sky.
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 6:11 PM UTC
In a Strike
Lightning in Dice
I'm no Psych
Just a Mice
~
With a Slice
Be the Treasure
There's no Rice
But whole Pleasure
~
It's a Measure
To be Safe
Y'all Immature
Learn to Strafe
~
You a Waif
Me a Pure
Don't you Chafe
You Impure
~
Sea is Azure
Trust my Gut
But I'm Sure
I can Cut
~
Battle will Begin
Their's no Mercy
Who can Win
With no Thirsty
~
Don't be Nasty
Ships will Fire
They are Classy
Like a Choir
~
With no Tire
We will Roll
Do not Retire
That's out Goal
~
Burn the Soul
Fight with Urge
Do your Role
Let's Purge
~
We won't Merge
Enemy is tricky
To the Verge
Give them Hickey.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
Doctor
Please no need for meds
I swear the voices in my head only try to help
You see I can't stand on my own two feet
Doctor
What's the matter with me
Obsessed?
Depressed?
****** Well maybe
But who are you to judge me?
Oh your degree, I see
Well that maybe
These voices say such delicate words and you care to tune them out
Well Doctor I fear the meds are better suited up your ***
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
Crying asylum,
swallows me whole.
White coats surrounds me,
taking control.
Forcible pills,
from lady insane.
Swallow them down,
or wrenching in pain.
Rooms smell of *****
and ***** and such.
Banging your head,
it drives you just nuts.
There's Sam in the corner
counting the bugs,
Alice walks around
giving false hugs.
Look, standing there,
Mike's tearing his face.
Sue's so surine,
screaming in space.
Lights go dim
bed time is bout.
Voices are silenced,
cuz the needles came out.
Strapped to my bed,
I am piercing the dark.
Orderly walks by,
sharp as a lark.
Lying all quiet,
alone and not proud.
A squeal from the speaker,
quite vocal and loud.
Scurry in the hallway,
drinking from his cup.
"Dr. Smith to the Psych Ward!!!"
"Hurry, the patient woke up!!"
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
It's easy to be good at many things,
It's sad to be known for just a few;
It's alright to try everything once,
But it's hard to be an Ace among the crew.
It does take a lot of courage
To accept the norms and later pine;
But to stand up to what you believe in--
That takes a hell of a thick spine!
People call it arrogance,
To walk away from the crowd;
But with time, the one who walked away,
Is the one who walks proud.
Free will is an illusion for many,
It's a social necessity to walk in a herd;
Society accepts you on its own conditions--
Which if not fulfilled, you remain unheard...
There's a monarchy of tradition,
That feeds a monopoly of disappointment;
*It's your charity to their egos,
That secures your appointment!*
Go, find where you belong,
Amidst this raging tide;
Swim through the mailstorm,
Pull at the chains that keep you tied.
Break free of those psych bonds,
Move out into the light;
Rid yourself of that ancient poison,
And proclaim your own path as right.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
when i was 8 years old,
i got off the bus.
i got off the bus to two words.
the next 72 hours were spent hiding in a basement.
nothing was coming.
i think, at least...
the whispers in my head told me otherwise though,
so in the basement i stayed.
when i was 10 years old,
the news woman shared stories.
the news woman told me the end was near.
maybe that wasn't her exact words.
i didn't sleep...
just in case.
insomnia became a friend of mine.
when i was twelve years old,
the new year rung in and i was alone.
the house was blanketed in silence,
and i sat on an empty couch,
and everything had seemed so quiet.
a razor blade was my only company.
we became quite close that night.
when i was fourteen years old,
i wandered barren hallways,
adorned with crimson.
they had given me free socks when i'd arrived.
the psych ward was not nearly as loud as the voices in my head.
i am now sixteen years old.
medications flow through my veins,
scars dance up and down my wrists,
and although i am surrounded by people,
i am so alone.
the moral of the story:
tell me when you figure it out,
because trust me, i'm still trying.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
He gave me his
jacket
and it smelled like
him and smoke
and I knew why
but I wore it anyway.
The day he
disappeared
it was cold outside so
I wore his jacket
and
wiped my nose on the sleeves.
We got the call from the
psych ward
three days later and I couldn't
see him
or
hold him
so I buried my face in his jacket
even though it smelled like smoke
and I knew why.
I kept it
stuffed in the corner between
the wall and my bed
so on the nights when I
missed him too much to sleep
I could wrap myself in it
even though
it didn't smell like him anymore.
When he came back
a month later
and I saw him in
a crowded hallway
he looked at me and
smiled
when he noticed I was wearing
his jacket
and he
hugged me
so it smelled like him again.
I still
wear his jacket
when I can't sleep at night.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
its all your fault, its all your fault
its all my fault, its all my fault
it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter
we're both at fault here
but go ahead and blame me, make me the villain
it's because you never learned how to be chillin'
or maybe i just never learned to care
but if that's the case, how come you were never there?
i think in that regard, its not fair
i was there for you through thick and thin
because if i didn't, you'd try to get under my skin
and yet you've never been there for me
quit spamming me on ig
yeah, too busy talking **** about me to our friends
but i've been called every single name under the sun
so good luck if you're tryna have some fun
coulda been friends but you wanted more
wanted me to block you from the waves while i died on the shore
So obsessed with who’s real and who’s fake
In that case maybe you should take a double-take
Only ever hitting me up when you’re lonely
Stop thinking we homies when you don’t even know me
Not even trying to get to know me beyond the surface
Yeah, these conversations to me have no purpose
Yeah got all these little boys tryna hit me up for affection
Don't care about the real me, only the attention
But boys don't get me wrong, just because I'm alone doesn't mean I need your fixation
Alone but not lonely, yet the men I like don't like my complexion
Unfortunate but it's okay, I'm looking for forever
So before that, I gotta get better
Acting like you’re the only one with issues
Well guess what boy, everybody’s got a mountain of tissues
Yeah, everybody’s got their problems
But unlike you, they keep quiet and try to solve em
Yeah I may be a psych major
And you may think that works out in your your favour
but friends ain’t being your personal therapist
I met too many just like you, could make a list
Yeah I ain’t tryna sound heartless but
If you think that, then you don’t know me at all, case shut
“I know you, you wouldn’t do something like that”
Yeah, the real ones don’t need me to obsessively hit em back
They respect my ADHD, yeah it’s a neurological disorder
I was born with it, people like you always tryna change my borders
They didn't even know about it beforehand, yeah they like me for me
Even been there for me when I had to go through therapy
Now you run your mouth around town
Truth be told, you brought my mental health down
When we were together, not now
I’ve been called every name under the sun, running your mouth only makes you look like a clown
Yeah I don’t like being bitter
But truth be told boy, you’re a real vibe killer
I’m always thinking about the big picture
But you always make everything about you, like you’re some famous fixture
Keep that in mind next time you complain about getting bitten
Think about how you made a tiger out of this fluffy kitten
Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 2:59 PM UTC
When I first admitted
To loving you
A seed was planted in my being
It grew with every rain of love
It somehow became a part of me
And when you left
My body ached
You are like
A phantom limb
My body cannot
Accept your absence
Some nights
I feel it all again
I relive the moment
I did not give consent for
Such great a amputation
Though I knew the risks
Of keeping a dying limb
You cut yourself off
And months later I'm stuck
With my phantom pain
They took me to psych
Told me I'd gone insane
But after the sunshine of our love
what's there to expect
But cold weather and rain?
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
A psych ward is the place to be,
Come along, and you will see.
You'll be welcomed by forgotten silent deaths
and torturous screams.
An everlasting place of a need to be free.
Come on down to the "freak show",
We'll show you how we rock and roll,
Some say that we're unhinged,
But trust me honey, the fun is about to begin.
A lobotomy a day keeps the schizophrenia away they say,
An electric chair isn't the cruelest thing there,
By far it is knowing that you are not crazy, amongst a world that is.
We'll dance for you, we do it well.
But if we don't, torture will make it amends.
We sit here day on day, hoping for freedom,
Uncanny, unlikely, and an impossible dream.
A psych ward is the place to be,
We'll grow old here and die a forgotten death,
The music is still playing,
The patients are still dancing,
This is my last day.
So come on down to our freak show, join our family, we'll show you how to rock and roll,
And die insanely.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 7:17 AM UTC
Words etched in my memory
Set free amidst a cloud of feel-good vibe
That was the plan all along
to cast off the chains
ignore the blades
(they've kissed your skin enough)
and feel good
My psych textbook attributes any and all good feelings
To our need as people to belong to something
But we hold ourselves on too high a platter
And forget that there is more out there than ourselves
To belong is not necessarily to other people
To belong is to an idea
To belong is to a word
To belong is to your world
To belong is to the roads less traveled
To belong is to the path worn down
To belong is to the bustling city
To belong is to the smallest town
We are no different, no different at all from
The beings we look down upon and slaughter at whim
A greater purpose is needed.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 4:36 PM UTC
1) Mental hospitals are more like dramas/comedies than horror
films. When people think of psych wards they think of criminally
insane people rocking back and forth, talking to their imaginary
friends and throwing chairs. Don't get me wrong, there's some of
those. But most of us just do word searches, color, joke about
serious things.
2) We aren't monsters, we are your brothers, your daughters, your
mother, your co-worker we are just regular people who have lost
our way and need some help finding the path again
3) I am closer to people I knew for 2 weeks than I will ever be with
anyone on the outside. Yes we all call it the outside
4) Sometimes talking to people who understand what you're going
through is more therapeutic than the actual therapy groups. This
is not to say that the doctors there are crap it is just to say that no
matter how much they read and listen they will never truly
understand what it feels like unless they have been there and we
can tell who has been there, they go the extra mile to make us
feel like people
5) It's not a vacation, it's not fun, it's not an escape from the real
world. It is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is work.
6) Everyone in there is a person in unbearable pain but it isn't just a
bunch of people sitting around crying. We go from group to
group and then color and go to bed nothing about it is really fun
but you get used to it
7) The mental hospital is like a camp for empty people, just like a
band camp we can all relate to each other and makes you feel
less alone
8) Getting discharged it a great feeling because you are free, but it
is also completely terrifying, in the hospital it's safe, people get it,
there is always someone to talk to and now you're all alone
9) Just because I've spent 7 and a half weeks in a mental hospital
over 2 stays doesn't mean I am fixed there is no cure for my
illnesses and that's just the way it is
10) We are not who you think, the kindest people I've ever met
were also the ones hurting the most.
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
I see them in my mind
Count them as they fall
Glittering red jewels
Do not loose them all
One
Parents split
Two
Mom doesn't understand
Three
No one loves me
Four
I hurt him
Five
He devoured my innocence, I thought I loved him
Six
It wasn't love, it was ****
Seven
I can't tell my friends
Eight
Judgement, if anyone knows
Nine
They all hate me
Ten
Inadequacy
Eleven
Alone
Twelve
No one understands
Thirteen
Oh God
Fourteen
....
Fifteen
My mom finds me
Sixteen
She sees my rubies
Seventeen
Screaming
Eighteen
Hospital
Nineteen
Psych Ward
Twenty
They ask questions at school
Twenty One
I need to see my rubies again
Twenty Two
They make beautiful pictures
Twenty Three
I told you, and him
Twenty Four
Your sad faces hurt me
Twenty Five
You make me throw my pretty friends in the river
Twenty Six
I stop
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Stabbed in the back
I never bled
Heart ripped out
Not one cracked rib
Contorted and twisted trying to fit a mold
Almost did but didn't break
Absorbed every physical blow
Not a single bruise did it make
Took in each syllable of every verbal assault
Still I stand tall
Blamed for trust and abandonment red flags forged by others
Still couldn't crush my spirit at all
Opened up and bared it all just to have it used as ammunition
Refused to clam up completely
Kicked repeatedly when down
Tried to prove it's deserved, couldn't convince me
PSYCH!!
HAPPY NATIONAL OPPOSITE DAY!
©2024
Feb 13, 2024
Feb 13, 2024 at 3:59 PM UTC
RINZAI BOX
Had to have a psych eval
at the box factory
a human resources workup
to make sure
I could handle work again
making cardboard condos
for little mammal prisoners
of the pet trade
who live on hot windowsills
until someone comes to love them.
I got too depressed once
when I found tiny bunnies
mewling in a dumpster
their only refuge
yes
a box I had made
you could tell
it said assembled with care
by Kevin
and I missed a month of work
and got written up
for just being sad.
The shrink diagnosed me
a cognitive distorter
a predictor of worst case scenarios
but I disagreed
since I saw the sad bunnies for real
and he puffed up like a blowfish
stammering you’re the patient
I’m the man.
Well I’ve been around the zendo
so I challenged him
smartypants answer this…….
Do bunnies in boxes
have Buddha nature?
Irrational and pointless he said
hmmmmm I said
how do you know
maybe you’re a narcissist
on a psychobabble fugue
echoing in a therapy box.
But I have Buddha nature
and I put that in the boxes I make
and the Buddha bunnies go in the boxes
and you here in your Buddha office
are not separate
just uniquely boxed
and the label on the bunnies' box says
assembled with care by Buddha.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
I’ve a general practitioner, a psychiatrist and a psychologist
(who’s leaving but I’ll panic about that later)
I’m on 4 different psych meds
Adderall, XR 25mg P.O.
(So I can be motivated, focus and concentrate), Daily
Klonopin, 0.5mg P.O.
(For panic attacks, social anxiety, generalized anxiety), As needed
(Translation:Constantly)
Buspirone, 10mg P.O. (For depression and generalized anxiety),
3 times daily – Useless
Remeron, 15mg P.O. (For depression, anxiety and insomnia),
Daily, at night – Only helps you sleep
Even with all that, I can barely get out of bed in the morning,
coffee’s no help
I can’t really sleep much, waking times a night,
sleeping restlessly if at all
Going to class is a nerve wracking nightmare – as is going out –
but I do it anyways
A panic attack surrounded by people is better than
solitary madness and cabin fever
Like a slave, to a handful of bitter little pills just barely keeping you afloat, unable to hack it alone
While everyone else seemingly can push on through life without them
Falling behind, despite the stupid little pills
Watching as the world goes on around you, spinning sickeningly
While you wish desperately to be normal,
with a million colliding thoughts in your head
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
I'm thirteen years old again. Sitting in the doctors office answering the question, "have you ever thought about committing suicide?" That questions hard for me. I've thought about dying. never doing the act myself. If I was hit by a car tomorrow never waking up, I would be ok with that. The doctor ended up telling my mom I should probably talk to someone. Crushing the "perfect family, my kids are flawless" picture she wanted a second opinion. Two years went by before I got that second opinion. In those two years I cut I stopped I cut I stopped. Doctor number 2 told my mom I should talk to someone, before I hurt myself. Doctor I'm 15 years old now a freshman in high school I've been talking to someone yet I still hurt myself. No one knows! I do the walk of shame, wearing sweatshirts and long sleeves in the summer. My answer to "why" was always, "I guess I'm just cold." My mom read my poem once it mentioned cutting. When she asked me I said no, she believed me. See I was scared my mom was going to lock me up in a psych ward. Tell everyone I was in boarding school, forgetting all about the ******* child who couldn't do anything right! I'm 18 years old now, I haven't cut in 3 years. I talked to the old me today, I thanked her for letting me live. But where were you, when you found out your child was imperfect?
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC