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Amitav Radiance Jul 2014
Cheating can be pandemic
Heart’s afflicted and paralyzed
Mind rationalizes the malady
Sabotaging the ties of relationships
Pandemonium sweeps away all
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2018
Wish I could do something right
So words would ring true
Wish I met high expectations
Maybe then I could lose a few

I wish I was not weighted with
Weakness well within my core
If only I was put together differently
Strength would emit from every pore

I create my shortcomings
How am I sabotaging my own goal?
Not trying in the first place
Allowing fear to take control

My heart bleeds in anticipation
Before cuts have a chance to appear
Live my life in apprehension
Assuming danger to always be near

My motionless state of insecurity
Realm of dysfunctional doubt
I forever am encapsulated in time
My skull is a jail and I cannot get out
Not so proud of this one but eh.. here it is anyway

Written 8/25/18
Eliza Sterling Feb 2014
In a peculiar, far off, world, time and place,
The trivial past would be irrelevant, chased away then erased.
Contrary to the reality of distorted lies in front of my face,
These eyes cannot mask fraudulence or disgrace.
Chasing them down with a trace of a defaced case of toxic waste,
I pace as my thoughts race of the time that’s left until I dissipate.
Looking into the murky vase with dying flowers desperate to be replaced,
Misplaced to the one who’d obliterate the beauty I once embraced.

Within my sorrow I woke, shattered love replaced with a heart no longer broke.
Soaked with what I could never cope, I felt passion and choked on my once false hope.
This vision evoked a note; a call of duty for you, my eternity to devote.
Instinctively I knew, the words stuck in my throat, but blindly every incline eventually has a *****.
Surrounded by mirrors shielded with smoke,
As we stared we shared yet nothing we spoke.
Your presence was felt but disguised with a cloak,
Confined in your skin, comfortably lost afloat, for your soul I searched to perpetually stroke.

With blurred vision I envisioned, stood silent, anxious of your condition,
Division of indecision was nothing less than your frightened inquisition.
A hallucination on a mission of who was out to hurt you with consistence,
I understood as you tried to piece together the suspicion of our composition.
Guarded and in position to react upon intuition then the smoke disappeared and you saw our reflection.
No longer was my presence an imposition now in recognition you accepted the ignition of a united evolution.
Successful revision disposed internal superstition,
Our collision created a premonition for our future decisions of precision.

The past’s paths we chose were restricted to our addiction and careless indifference,
The assistance of negative influence stripped us of our innocence.
Blood shot eyes, negligence of appearance, abstracted resistance only creating distance.
Ambiguous and inexperienced, taking shots and hits in an instance,
Distorted images, lacking clarity, the abuse of substance left an absence of existence.
Building tolerance whilst sabotaging resilience, guilty and unable to admit repentance,
Without a witness, secret and safe, no justice to serve and no one to listen.
A mission incomplete and persistent,
We continue to envelope in our disappearance.

In the seam of my sickness I submerge within these contaminated nerves,
Fearing the silence with thirst not to be disturbed,
But absurdly I yearned your unhealthy and perplexed words to be heard,
My tender nature reserved an exclusive place to keep you conserved,
Unstable but concerned I’d preserve you like an herb,
I slurred for forgiveness but observed perhaps this was my turn,
But with your freedom you turned away and flew away like a bird.
Now relentless and pure I burn the surface of my figure, no intent to return.

Yet once we were young, wild and free,
Conducting our train with no fear of where we’d soon be,
The sweet breeze guaranteed the destination with ease,
Imagination without knowledge, amid glee and degree,  
We’d dive and rise above the salty sea,
Later meet beneath that tree with belief the starry sky we’d seize,
Through the debris you still held in your hand the key,
And we’d conquer our dreams, what we sought and believed.

But as I’ve grown within my questioning dome,
My home of stones has nothing to be shown,
Prone to disown my weakened skin and bones,
Candidly I pacify the clone I’ve never known.
In hopes to be flown far ahead of this zone,
I’d hover above in a whispering tone, draining my disease as it’s blown.
My soul will glisten and roam, looking down at my new golden throne,
As I’ve postponed to recognize the beauty of the Earth & my own – No longer shall I be alone.
poppy Jan 2018
Please don’t hate me
I value your friendship so much
But ever since our conversation yesterday
you haven’t been in touch

What I said wasn’t wrong
and I know I did my part to make it easy
I tell myself if you’re that kind of person I don’t need you
But you’re my friend so please don’t hate me
I miss you so I cry
because you always make me smile
you who makes me like myself
why are we separated by so many miles?

My sunshine are you well?
I know you always try
To do your best and send me love
and I miss you so I cry
I swear when we chat I like you
But when you tag those posts I frown
Sometimes you seem so passive aggressive
or petty and I can’t stand seeing you around

I don’t know how to tell you your behaviour
is sabotaging yourself and you haven’t a clue
Sometimes you seem like someone I’d hate
But I swear when we chat I like you
So many of you I do not like
but I’m too scared of conflict to say goodbye
I actually prefer a small social circle
But I keep acting like a social butterfly

You few that I love and value so much
lately our friendship seems a distant strike
We’re all busy and I understand but I’m stuck with
So many of you that I do not like
My down to earth friend please don’t hate me
For our friendship was more than just fluff
My sunshine friend don’t be sad or cry
You’re doing your best and you’re more than enough
I don’t know how else to fix things
and I don’t know how to end them
Lately friendship has brought me stress and tears
But I fear it’s all because I’m dumb
Friendship is hard

My life is filled with endless apologies

Sincere and heartfelt promises that are shallow and empty

It's not a conscious thought
The words aren't spoken with known deceit or intentional mal-intent
But somewhere in my brain, buried in my subconscious, I know...
A self-sabotaging automated programming constantly running
And regardless of my cognitive actions or conscious thoughts, desires and intentions
My automated programming will find a way to inevitably run its code, follow its routines and execute its prime directive

And that's not a cop out
They're still my actions
Conscious or subconscious
Actions resulting from subconscious "thought" are those I'm too ignorant to see or too weak to change in that moment

I don't know what's worse
The subconscious lies and heaps of horse fertilizer, day in and day out, I shove down the throats of those who cross my path
Or the incessant feed of regurgitated words, phrases, thoughts, ideas and worst of all.... hopes.... that is being forced through my digestive track only to be excreted by my body and re-absorbed by my central nervous system


The worst trick of all

And it always works. Without fail
Because it psychologically and emotionally preys on everything I want to be
The Hope that THIS TIME I'll get it right
All those things inside of me
All of my
This time it won't be wasted
This time I'll come through. You can count on me!
I promise!
This time I'll be on time
This time I won't be late!
This time I'll meet expectations
This time I'll EXCEED expectations!
This time I won't let people down
This time I won't....
                                    ..... let



The saddest and ultimate cruelty of lies
Created by the Devil to prey on the weak and gullible
If Hell is living your worst day over and over again for eternity;
Then repeating the same detrimental behaviors over and over again for life, sustained in this perpetual motion by something so simple and harmless looking as "Hope" must fall at the Devil's hands

A wolf in sheep's clothing sprinkled in fairy dust
The worst of thoughts and beliefs are kept alive by Hope
Hope is a disease; a psychological virus
A damaged idea spreading from person to person, hijacking their system, and infecting their thoughts
For Hope is not a singular idea, isolated in seclusion, yet ultimately wrapped up and packaged out with other ideas
No, Hope is the vehicle that all thoughts that follow must ride in and by which be delivered
It is the Uber for ideas that follow
And like an unscrupulous and unpitying Uber driver,
Hope takes your brain to a secluded spot against its will and does as it so pleases
But unlike survivors of such horrific events
I, like a wide eyed doe in the headlights
I continuously expose myself to the exact same scenarios
over again

But not to worry

Hope will lose its magic
And the void created will be filled



And worst of all,


Denial is Hope's evil twin

The not so secret malicious trickster who, even though wears his emotions somewhat more clearly, is still capable of a lifetime of successful pranks

But unlike Hope, Denial doesn't always reveal his trick if the tricked has yet to become aware of the ruse
Instead, Denial will let them build
Stack upon stack
A colossal suspension bridge built and supported on Denial
And when I, with blind faith, cross that bridge
Putting everything and anything on the line, without question
That's when Denial delivers its reckoning
And in one all encompassing swoop it swallows me whole and any resemblance of "life" with it

Hope and Denial
My Atlantic and Pacific Oceans
and Me, a tiny island
Flanked on either side by the endless majesty of each
And like this planet,
I too,
Am a sphere spinning
A tiny island against the enormities of the the deep blue
A shipwrecked survivor
Floating on the driftwood of my subconscious
Left to the will of my environment
A helpless passenger on this ship of life
Constantly spinning between Hope and Denial
Some days calm and serene
Others, tormented by storms
Monster waves,
Flashes of lightning,
Ear shattering crackling explosions of thunder
And howling winds so fierce they must be the breath of God

And regardless of what scenario lays before me,
I'm left repeatedly with the same "choice" and same action

Enveloped with fear,
Hanging on for dear life,
Like a helpless and horrified child.....

On the verge of soiling my pants
Written: May 28, 2018

All rights reserved.
samasati May 2013
I wish there was a better way to say I just cut myself again
a tidier way,
something that makes it sound less morbid and a bit more romantic
like barbados
like *** on the beach
for the irony of sabotaging a fling of intimacy for myself
sabotaging swimsuit and short-shorts season
I don’t want anyone to touch me
or even look at me
so it’s all in my favour
nails that are painted colourful like clowns
and there’s a red and white polkadot bow in my hair
personally, I think it’s kind of funny
that when people look through a kaleidoscope, all they see is
pretty colours instead of shards of broken glass
Nicx Sep 2018
Commitment issues
This again?
Yes but this time these are my words
Not the labels thrown at me by exes
Like arrows attempting to pierce me into place
I thought it was meant to trap me
But I think they just wanted me to stop
To think
To really evaluate myself
To see the truth
Im afraid of commitment.

When I've been told this in the past
I read it with the understanding that
Commitment issues meant I
Just couldn't have or didn't want a relationship
And that just couldn't be true
I mean just check my track record

No, see
My having commitment issues
Is rooted deeply within my past
These problems originate in an exciting mix of
Trust issues
Abandonment issues
And a variety of other traumas

I am not afraid to enter relationships
And I do not avoid love
Actually, I am obsessed with finding love
With being loved
All the while trying to love another
Thinking I'm succeeding
While subtly sabotaging myself in the process

When I was small
I did not receive the respect and care
Needed to show I was loved
Though my parent said they cared
They didn't protect me the way they should have
I had to take care of myself
Look out for myself
Because I was the only one I could trust

Anytime I got close to someone
They'd either decide to leave
Or get ripped away by outside forces
I was alone a lot
And not great at making friends
With the abuse happening at one house
And some solace found at the other
I was constantly fluctuating between
Hellhole and liberation
All while trying to have a childhood
And survive adolescence

So when they say I have commitment issues
They're probably right
But not for the reasons they think
Not because I'm polyamorous
Not because I don't want to commit
Not because I don't love and
Not because of who I am as a person
My issues come from a long line of
Different abuses by people who
Were supposed to protect me
But didn't

So if you think to judge me
For the trouble I have with trusting you
And trusting you won't hurt me
Or decide to leave when I'm "too much"
Understand that I did not choose to be like this
I didn't choose the pain that led me to love
In such a haphazard way

But I am choosing to do something about it
Yenson May 2019
They call it a 'Class War"
They call it a "War of Liberation"
whilst its just another instance of white oppression

Childish, immature, mean and nasty underachievers
like the kid on the beach who kicks over others sandcastle
because they are better than the ******* castle he made

Like that that uncool dumb teen who scatters the board game
because he's now seen that he is losing and cannot win at all

like those ugly pimpled friends who would play gooseberry
and ****-blockers because  they can't get nice dates of their own

like that bitter mad one who will spill ink over your white top
or new Trainers because he or she has old and ***** ones

They are all from the world of the sicko psychos and damaged
talent-less mean, envious, sad pathetic people going nowhere
If I can't make it, why should others do and be winners

They all graduate to the divisive politics of the ****** losers
Power is stopping progress and advancement because they are down
Power is bringing achievers and enterprise down they can's gain
Power is sabotaging all that is good because they are bad in all

Measly fetid minds they plot and conspire in gangrenous network
dolts, scums, unwashed losers and rejects of society, bottom feeders
Come join the Party, our specialty is chaos and disruption of winners

The pathetic jokes of the white West, losers in their own backyards
picks on an African who came from disadvantages to better them
better educated, more intelligent, cool and stylish in every way
pack full of potential, going places they can never go or reach

Our sick, mean spirited under-achievers, expert losers and scums
crawled on the war-path, riddled with envy, sick with jealousy
ruin his progress, oppose and disrupt a black man who doubles
efforts to achieve, what if losers try is given to them on a plate

What here is done for the greater good, what here is honorable
celebrated victories for psychos, racist underachievers I think not
peoples power? more sick, tormented, jealous n envious chicanery
anarchy jealousy, anarchy shame, anarchy racists, anarchy liars

One Single Black achiever demonstrates the inherent strength
and grace of our all our Ancestors against sick, persistent white oppression. That's the story here.
If its a fair war, why hide and go underground, why fight *****!
Kelly Rose Apr 2015
Incapable of opening her heart
Hiding behind books
Exquisitely lies
So believable
Even she bought
Her own *******
Lock, stock, and barrel
or it is...
Hook, line, and sinker
The one who
Closes off
Heart and Soul
Never learns
No real impact
Silent screams
Or maybe not so silent
Drowning in a pool
Of cries for help
Unable or
To grab a life line
She breaks
Her own heart
Numbing her soul
Unknowing of WHY
She refuses to
Stop Self-Sabotaging
Keeps her heart and soul
Closed to others
Never letting them close
Feeling so alone*

Despair or just self pity?
Kimmy Dec 2019
For all my friends and family i know you are all feeling
frustrated, helpless, and ready
to give up. It’s not your fault. You are not the cause of our suffering.

You may find that difficult to believe, since we may lash out at you, switch from being loving and kind to non-trusting and cruel on a dime, and we may even straight up blame you. But it’s not your fault. You deserve to understand more about this condition and what we wish we could say but may not be ready.

It is possible that something that you said or did “triggered” us. A trigger is something that sets off in our minds a past traumatic event or causes us to have distressing thoughts. While you can attempt to be sensitive with the things you say and do, that’s not always possible, and it’s not always clear why something sets off a trigger.

The mind is very complex. A certain song, sound, smell, or words can quickly fire off neurological connections that bring us back to a place where we didn’t feel safe
, and we might respond in the now with a similar reaction (think of military persons who fight in combat — a simple backfiring of a car can send them into flashbacks. This is known as PTSD, and it happens to a lot of us, too.)

But please know that at the very same time that we are pushing you away with our words or behavior, we also desperately hope that you will not leave us or abandon us in our time of despair and desperation.

This extreme, black or white thinking and experience of totally opposite desires is known as a dialectic. Early on in our diagnosis and before really digging in deep with DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy), we don’t have the proper tools to tell you this or ask for your support in healthy ways.

We may do very dramatic things, such as harming ourselves in some way (or threatening to do so), going to the hospital, or something similar. While these cries for help should be taken seriously, we understand that you may experience “burn out” from worrying about us and the repeated behavior.

Please trust that, with professional help, and despite what you may have heard or come to believe, we CAN and DO get better.

These episodes can get farther and fewer between, and we can experience long periods of stability and regulation of our emotions. Sometimes the best thing to do, if you can muster up the strength in all of your frustration and hurt, is to grab us, hug us, and tell us that you love us, care, and are not leaving.

One of the symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder is an intense fear of being abandoned, and we therefore (often unconsciously) sometimes behave in extreme, frantic ways to avoid this from happening. Even our perception that abandonment is imminent can cause us to become frantic.

Another thing that you may find confusing is our apparent inability to maintain relationships. We may jump from one friend to another, going from loving and idolizing them to despising them – deleting them from our cell phones and unfriending them on Facebook. We may avoid you, not answer calls, and decline invitations to be around you — and other times, all we want to do is be around you.

This is called splitting, and it’s part of the disorder. Sometimes we take a preemptive strike by disowning people before they can reject or abandon us. We’re not saying it’s “right.” We can work through this destructive pattern and learn how to be healthier in the context of relationships. It just doesn’t come naturally to us. It will take time and a lot of effort.

It’s difficult, after all, to relate to others properly when you don’t have a solid understanding of yourself and who you are, apart from everyone else around you.

In Borderline Personality Disorder, many of us experience identity disturbance issues. We may take on the attributes of those around us, never really knowing who WE are.  You remember in high school those kids who went from liking rock music to pop to goth, all to fit in with a group – dressing like them, styling their hair like them, using the same mannerisms? It’s as if we haven’t outgrown that.

Sometimes we even take on the mannerisms of other people (we are one way at work, another at home, another at church), which is part of how we’ve gotten our nickname of “chameleons.” Sure, people act differently at home and at work, but you might not recognize us by the way we behave at work versus at home. It’s that extreme.

For some of us, we had childhoods during which, unfortunately, we had parents or caregivers who could quickly switch from loving and normal to abusive. We had to behave in ways that would please the caregiver at any given moment in order to stay safe and survive. We haven’t outgrown this.

Because of all of this pain, we often experience feelings of emptiness. We can’t imagine how helpless you must feel to witness this. Perhaps you have tried so many things to ease the pain, but nothing has worked. Again – this is NOT your fault.

The best thing we can do during these times is remind ourselves that “this too shall pass” and practice DBT skills – especially self-soothing – things that helps us to feel a little better despite the numbness. Boredom is often dangerous for us, as it can lead to the feelings of emptiness.  It’s smart for us to stay busy and distract ourselves when boredom starts to come on.

On the other side of the coin, we may have outburst of anger that can be scary. It’s important that we stay safe and not hurt you or ourselves. This is just another manifestation of BPD.

We are highly emotionally sensitive and have extreme difficulty regulating/modulating our emotions. Dr. Marsha Linehan, founder of DBT, likens us to 3rd degree emotional burn victims.

Through Dialectical Behavior Therapy, we can learn how to regulate our emotions so that we do not become out of control.  We can learn how to stop sabotaging our lives and circumstances…and we can learn to behave in ways that are less hurtful and frightening to you.

Another thing you may have noticed is that spaced out look on our faces. This is called dissociation. Our brains literally disconnect, and our thoughts go somewhere else, as our brains are trying to protect us from additional emotional trauma. We can learn grounding exercises and apply our skills to help during these episodes, and they may become less frequent as we get better.

But, what about you?

If you have decided to tap into your strength and stand by your loved one with BPD, you probably need support too.  Here are some ideas:

Remind yourself that the person’s behavior isn’t your fault

Tap into your compassion for the person’s suffering while understanding that their behavior is probably an intense reaction to that suffering

Do things to take care of YOU. On the resources page of this blog, there is a wealth of information on books, workbooks, CDs, movies, etc. for you to understand this disorder and take care of yourself. Be sure to check it out!

In addition to learning more about BPD and how to self-care around it, be sure to do things that you enjoy and that soothe you, such as getting out for a walk, seeing a funny movie, eating a good meal, taking a warm bath — whatever you like to do to care for yourself and feel comforted.

Ask questions. There is a lot of misconception out there about BPD.

Remember that your words, love, and support go a long way in helping your loved one to heal, even if the results are not immediately evident

Not all of the situations I described apply to all people with Borderline Personality Disorder. One must only have 5 symptoms out of 9 to qualify for a diagnosis, and the combinations of those 5-9 are seemingly endless.  This post is just to give you an idea of the typical suffering and thoughts those of us with BPD have.

This is my second year in DBT. A year ago, I could not have written this letter, but it represents much of what was in my heart but could not yet be realized or expressed.

My hope is that you will gain new insight into your loved one’s condition and grow in compassion and understand for both your loved one AND yourself, as this is not an easy road.

I can tell you, from personal experience, that working on this illness through DBT is worth the fight. Hope can be returned. A normal life can be had. You can see glimpses and more and more of who that person really is over time, if you don’t give up.  I wish you peace.
Cardboard Grey Oct 2012
Picture pecan.
Plastering, painted prints.

Languid Leaves.
Listless, lethargic lives.

Sacrificed scenery.
Shattered, struggling space.

Beauty dies
This time of year.
honey Jun 2017
i'm sorry that i'm not happy.
but all the lives i have lived,
all the heartache & pain
have caused my unhappiness.
it's nothing to do with you.
all it is, is the past.
telling me that love means pain
& that if they don't hurt you constantly
it's not love.
my past tells me that love
is always perfect & happy,
that there are no issues in love,
love is perfect.
all these ideals & perfectionism
sabotaging my relationships
sabotaging my happiness.
telling me that this is wrong
because i was raised in contradiction.
contradiction is my home.
i've seen the war between my parents
i've heard the screaming of insults
i've witnessed the anger
i've been the blank screen
on which to cast the anger on.
i was taught from a very young age
that my failures were catastrophic
instead of a normal process of life.
i was taught that my temper
was a way to gain the attention
i so desperately craved.
i was taught that my pain
was insignificant & invalid
that i was a brat for feeing anything
except grateful.
i grew up thinking that nice
was boring & unsatisfying
& that danger & manipulation
would fill the empty void.
i grew up with negativity, pain
& contradiction
clouding my every thought,
clouding my every judgement,
shaping my every decision.
so i'm sorry i'm not happy.
saying "it's not you; it's me"
sounds like such a cliché.
but it couldn't be more appropriate.
forgive me.
clearly i still have some inner issues to deal with.
Profanity is a ******* Tool.
Profanity is Subjective.
Profanity doesn't necessarily show intellectual or moral paucity.
Profanity is a form of emphasis; a form of ******* catharsis, an aspect of humour.
******* humour:
A goldmine rooted in Shadow,
  excavated by Logic
and which seems,
for the most part,
wasted on the irrefutably
illogical, or at least bi-polar
(if not higher-multi-polar)

"Anyone who relies on any one given tool is a fool, as
anyone who denounces a given tool for how it has been used by others is outright stupid."

A carpenter who can only use a hammer is quite restricted,
A musician who can only play alone is no good in a band,
A poet who only writes can't show the world how it's meant to be read (if at all),
A comedian who only swears has little else to offer,
A person who only speaks but doesn't act on it is a liar.

A carpenter who won't use a hammer is self-sabotaging.
A musician who can only play with others has no personal skill.
A poet who refuses to write starves oneself of potential.
A comedian who won't swear better have a good point.
A person who only acts but reuses to speak had better be a monk or mime!
(The last two were perhaps failed, even vein attempts at humour..
I shall leave that up to you to decide!)

Profanity is a Tool:*
I believe that no matter the profanity, a message can still be well received
by those who care enough to receive it.
Better still are those who can interpret the profanity
as humourous accentuation, emphasis, catharsis
and not necessarily as overly-abrasive and immature.

That said, some people are just totally ******* immature about it.
If you can't stand the profanity, get the ******* the internet. 4srs.
Better yet, shut yourself away from the world
lest you ever deal with that which you find unsettling.
So ist das Leben.
Telle est la vie.
Así es la vida.
Such is life.
Aria of Midnight Nov 2014
sabotaging, manipulating,
controlling, demeaning, angering,
underestimating, avenging,
stops when you
learn to respect
that person.
Expecting two wrongs to make a right.
Always ending up in a controversial fight.
Once brothers and sisters, hand-in-hand.
Now benevolent, immoral and divided we stand.
Pointing fingers at the ones who speak Gods word.
Accusations of intolerance, as their words go unheard.
'Thou shalt not judge" is our new favorite line.
Never picked up a bible, but that verse sounds fine.
Picking and choosing what we want ourselves to hear.
Overwhelmed with uncertainty and plagued by fear.
Twisting Gods words to suit our sin.
Becoming charmers of the flesh, rather than fishers of men.
Making ample lies out of such divine truth.
While sabotaging the future of our demoralized youth.
Blaming a God we now deny,
Cursing the heavens and wondering why.
If God's a God of love why would He leave?
Like we're some sort of dirt brushed off from His sleeve.
He hasn't left, nor turned His back,
We're the ones who got off track.
Following our own paths to a realm of unknown.
Creating our own world, trying to make it all alone.
Forgetting who was created for who.
Not You for us, but we for You. ©
Tonight I,

Wake to longing.

And wake to the feeling of hopelessness.

This bitter feeling taste of helplessness, regret, self-loathing and understanding.

And understanding makes this a bile of an emotion needed.

But for what cost?

As I, lie here choking back tears,

Trying to take it all in much like,

An excessive quantity of medicine the will sooner **** the liver than cure the soul.

Who can i call to cast away my doubt and shoulder this understanding?

Because honestly I’m afraid that I’ll forget soon.

Honestly, I’m afraid I’ll remember.

There’s an honest emotion in this situation somewhere and I'v taken subtle hits of its bittersweet nectar.

But to many times its ironic sense of humor has in my dreams showed its self to me.

Showed myself my fallacy.

And i know.

I know how to appease my dreams

But to call her and expose to her this truth

That she and I must be together,

That she weighs heavy on my mind.

Tell her even when faced with her situation from the moment I held her child had me wanting to be a father.

But be that as it may this is only a dream.

One that i won’t see come into fruition.

I will outlive my dreams,

I have no choice.

I refused to let my selfishness ever cause her harm.

Call it arrogance

Or self-sabotaging behavior

Or call it what you will

But this is the end of dreams,

The end of hope

And the beginning of my eternal lament.

But odd as it sounds i can’t help but feel..... Satisfied.
Ayeshah Feb 2010
I listen for so long at what
TV, Radio & what other people said.
Advertisements, Magazines,
Books on how to loose weight,
Other ways & things to make myself look
pretty.  Pity-Petty me,
Trying to dress like
Trying so **** hard to fit in & be like those
Models & some of them one hit wonders...
even starting to think there
was something wrong with my skin.
Too dark for many
and yet I have this red hue kind of glow,
White teeth but so UN perfect to me.
Hour glass shape I hated it,
Big strong thighs that just didn't look right,
Truth be told for a while I used to like me
until I started becoming self-sabotaging .
Thinking I could get him or just be happy doing
what all the other girls & women did,
Oh how I wanted to be anyone else
other than myself.
Long curly- unruly hair,
***** some would say
but back then
I'd have it no other way,
Afro puffs, braids,
Styles that made people question me.
Relaxing, burning&straighting; my hair
To look like Halley Berry  
How she looked in that movie
I guess.
Making me feel so unPretty,
You sorry lil freak in
the mirror looking right back at me,
My grapefruits sit high-up on myself,  
They perk up and smile at me
in my state of  undress,
Some where some how along the way
I started hating them & their shape,
Wanted bigger even though I'm  38C.
Why? I really don't know...
I guess it all started
way back when;
I was just blooming
into a young lady,
Finding ones self.,
When I started to hate being me;
Foster father told me
I need to eat less,
Only Black/Puerto Rican
with dark skin in
a all White School.
Went onto visit family during this time
and got picked on
at home because
most of my families skins was so light,
Abusive relationships unbeknown at the time
had me feeling like I could never get it right,
Doing what ever "He" He  "Him" liked,
which is also what
helped take away any concept of self.
Went through the toughest 15 yrs of my life,
Married young to a
Man whose opinion
matter more then Mines.
Finally hit 23, Divorced & Free,
A light came on bright as the Sun...
I had to figure out who
I was when everyone told me
I was Ugly,Worthless & Dumb.
See eventually you reach that exhaustion.  
You take a really good look in the mirror,
Seeing me for me what hard facing reality...
I have almond shaped cat like eyes,
Brown hair with auburn highlights,
Full lips that most people pay to have
and I ain't never had to inject rat poison
into any parts of my FAT,
It's at this point where
I had to decide at this crossroad
which route I'd take.
Most would choose defeat but I had my little girls,
I couldn't accept them ever looking
at me as someone who gave up.
I had to figure out how to love myself  all over again
Be comfortable with who I am.
It takes many a lifetime sometimes to
finally come to this conclusion.
But for others like me,
It's really like building or rebuilding a puzzle,
The Puzzle Of You!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
Empire May 2019
I like to believe
My pride is rooted
In insecurity
Because somehow
That's better?
However some
Nagging notion
Makes me wonder if
My self-demeaning
My self-sabotaging
My self-harming
Is all simply to hide
From myself and
From the world
The arrogance
Consuming my mind
There's this strange sense of cycling that makes cause and effect far more confusing than one would think... especially when you're not sure you want the answer.
La Mer May 2015
While sabotaging agencies are corrupting,
I lie frozen,
Downloading how to translate
this brainwash without constantly erupting!

United Suits of America,
drug-guzzling, anti-christ
injecting poison in the fruits.

Wake to terror, bleed from pain,
get pushed from mankind,
from our freedom fighters’
propensities to feign.

Frequencies being altered,
from 432 to 440,
Unaware of the subtle control
they have taken of our
***** of corti.

Receptors are jarred
our balance mistaken,
slowly these trails are weakened,
and souls must awaken!

Rhythms of nature
being projected on a screen,
too safe to go outside,
we have become rotting cans
of packed sardines.
nothing's Amiss Jul 2015
Grey nameless faceless suits
A decaying ladder without roots
Monochrome and corporate candy  loot

Your elitest point is mute.
Your point is mute!

Fine dining line driving
A self-sabotaging visionary
Glass half empty
Down your throat white wine is sliding

D-U-why is my life such a mess?
I dream of big success
In nightmares you wear office dress
This is a test

Of your *******
Freeload patience!

Just a purple plastic bobble head
Nodding yes with self-deprecating complacency
Lowely little Attempts of autonomy

Grin wider with each ****-induced palpitation
Foaming at the mouth
  media-induced inebriation--
Cheap industrial imitation
On the fringes, gazing upwards with disgust.
A Mink Dec 2014
Bitterness beseeches every
                             Inch    of     me

Thoughts of your light enveloping
my existence in a

I am the dark queen, and you,
you are my ghost.

Haunting me perilously.

The destruction of my kingdom is welcomed.
Poison me with ANY
I welcome the cardinal sins of my evocations.
Blasphemy of my soul
Awakened and stripped
Of us, leaving me
Welcoming the blackness.
Noah Nov 2013
it comes
when you're reading one of those books
written by pseudo intellectuals buried
in their despondent lookout on life

comes when
       They're writing on human's self-sabotaging nature,
when they're peeling
layers off and off, revealing the
truth of ourself like they're
Hermes the messenger, or angels, Michael,
bringing to us thoughts we'd never have grown organically
     that's what they believe,
          what they tell themselves as they prune their feathers with pride
as they impregnate you with the god honest truth
and how did you live before knowing this?
it's been with you all along, kicking and breathing and pushing
     you just didn't know it, yet,
but now you can as
they preach their outlooks like it's a message that
changes everything, that your life will implode as your mind
wakes itself up -
     they try to baptize you
          gripping your throat with their
     carpel tunnel fingers, reading glasses
slipping down their noses as they lean over

you, watching their words pour into
you, their victims' throat, as they will it
and all the while they blame
you, because:

Humans make themselves miserable
     They write
They bury themselves in all they hate and
choose to burn all they love until
they're alone and self-loathing and scarred
     They write
Of our hatred for humanity
for every single individual that surrounds us and
How we surround ourselves with them
with crowded supermarkets and lanes of traffic because
they fuel our suffering and
That's all we crave
     They write
On our thirst for blood
our lust for ****, ******, war on
How our society is fueled by violence and how
we bathe in it with a grin
stretched across dry  bleeding lips
sharp teeth that rip through our neighbors' flesh
with delight
     They write
that we're alone in suffering and surrounded by hate and
we're wild animals driven to war
out of boredom and
That's human nature in a nutshell
That's the truth revealed
          nasty, gritty, honest
     They write
and that's when

it comes, that gnawing in the
     pit of your stomach, that
scratching in the back of your mind
     that claws its way
          down into your throat where it
it's hard to tell what's truth anymore
if it was ever easy to in the first place
Scarlett Aug 2018
I shave the acres of skin that envelope me
a useless movement only viewed by me
you can't touch my flushed skin nor can I yours
yet I cut away my old being for you
an action you shall never feel nor see
a perfect representation of you and me
my self-sabotaging heart yearns for attention
greedily absorbing any ounce of affection
wanting only what I cannot have
any risk of real connection a dangerous thing
so when I stared at the forbidden
I had never expected the forbidden to stare back
Amelia Crake Jun 2014
Trust is like
A tall vase
Of beautiful flowers,
Given to you
By your love.
Little things
Make the flowers wilt,
And slowly die.
Eventually you just
throw them out.
You still have the vase
But it feels kind of
Not the same.
Bigger things
Cause fault lines
To appear up the side,
Quietly sabotaging
Your beautiful vase.
And one day
It falls,
Shattering on the
It's gone now.
Sure, you could
Try to fix it..
But you'll always
See the cracks.
Trust no one
LUNA Jul 2018
i hate being so intense
i hate to love so hard
that i get mad at gravity
for making me fall so fast
and want to rip my heart
out of my chest.
i hate to think about you
since i wake up
till i fall asleep
and wish that you think of me
at least for a minute
so i don’t feel so stupid.
i hate to miss you
every second that
you’re not talking to me.
i hate to want to feel your touch so much
that i “accidentally” bump our shoulders
or our fingers
or our knees
or i poke your cheeks
or your arms
or your thighs.
i hate to relate every song about love.
i hate that you became my favorite flower.
i hate that your taking every piece of me
and making it about you.
i hate to still feel your kisses on my neck
or on my back
or on my lips
days after you actually kissed it.
i hate to smell your perfume out of nowhere
cause i know it’s just my head
sabotaging me.
i hate to find your hair strands on my pillow
and remind that you were part of this scenario for one night
and i hate that you seem to fit in it so perfectly.
i hate that i have so vivid in my memories
the face that you make
when i squeeze your waist
and you close your eyes
and scratch my back.
i hate to enjoy so much
the sounds that you make
when i’m kissing every inch of you.
i just hate everything
cause if i don’t
then i’ll love it
and it’ll be too late to control the damage.
Ghazal Nov 2016
I found myself rooting for the tiny ant
The spider was trying to trap in its webbed snare,
No thoughts did I spare before swiping a finger,
and helping it make a dramatic escape

As I looked at the spider, left food-less,
Rearrange itself in its meticulous net,
I wondered at the strangeness of this
Little world of ours, and also its pointlessness

We make it seem so rosy and pretty,
Embellish it with garlands of emotions,
But underneath lies the truth of its existence,
Made up of cruelty, chaos and commotion

The Designer painted it beautifully,
But gave it finer embroideries of pain,
He threw in an entire cosmos together,
And arranged it into a food chain

Compartments and more compartments,
Of colour and country and gender galore,
Hustle and bustle to stay put in a labile balance,
That is forever tipped at the cusp of war

We fool ourselves with the sham that our lives
Depend on friendships and love and such stunts,
When what we are, if we think about it,
Is a part, of one gigantic hunt

A hunt for alimentation,
And monetary satisfaction,
And physical satiation,
Does being conditional deserve glorification?

I wonder if I've turned into a permanent cynic,
It may very well be just a phase,
Though the spider would be cursing me for sure,
Not too romantic it is, sabotaging a prey!
Rebecca Lawson Oct 2013
i’m not naive enough to compare myself to a rose,
whose soft petals and curves prevail beyond its thorns.

i’m not a flower.
i’m not sweetness,
or supple colors,
or life.

i am a mess of stems and spines, sharp angles and twisted roots,
and i will damage those who get close enough to touch.

i am senselessly cruel,
and sabotaging.
an aimless collection of failures and secrets,
****** towels and bruised knees.

i am four in the morning,
thrashing and screaming and weeping.
i am waking up still drunk,
i am an ache that never passes.

i am love, but not the wonderful kind.

i am selfish vices,
i am indulgence and self-denial.
and sometimes,
as the light of morning appears,
i can’t imagine what i’ve done
or where i’ve been.
Natasha Ivory Dec 2016
Sometimes Dreams die..

Sometimes the fantasies that you create in your mind go to war with reality. And reality wins.

Sometimes the dreams that are fabricated in your thoughts are really just safe, soft places to escape to and can never be made to be tangible.

Sometimes there are forces that halt these selfish desires to hold you out for far more than you imagined.

Sometimes life does you favors, when you think it's sabotaging your dreams and you wake up to realize..that it was all destiny.
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2016
biche Jun 6
Recurring reversal
Mixed up signals
Anger through the roof

Divergent beliefs
We get no relief
From the battle of me vs you

All alone
Vacant phone
Not a ******* thing to do

You don’t hear me
You don’t believe me
What am I to you?

You stay away
Sabotaging the day
I’m beyond viscerally blue

A long time ago
We thought this would grow
Now we’re just destitute

You’re cruel and biting
Blaming, blaming
Reality blind or elusive

My vision was clear
You are the most dear
Our love most certainly true

Hence this pain so severe
Please help me to breathe —
To become something new

Waiting, worrying
Planning and unplanning
Mountains of things to do

Unable to focus
Unable to care
About anything that isn’t you

What can I cling to?
Please give me the energy
To help this love continue

Days turn to years
I love beyond my fears
The well of pain is deepest for you
Apple on a Rose Jul 2017
Am I self-sabotaging
is that what this is?
when my minds telling me he's good for me
but my heart wants to resist.
Am I truly in this
Like actually wanting to see where it goes?
He'll tell everyone he is
Even willing to propose.
But what if the feeling isn't mutual,
Just a sick game, manipulated insides?
All of the doubts, thoughts and confusion are drowning
Yet there's nowhere to hide.
I'm expected more of,
And people awe at all we have
Yet how much of it is real
How much of it is fact.
Is it a fact I love you?
Or a fact I thought I did?
Is it real we're meant to be?
Or did we just take our largest bid?
Is there something here?
That's not make belief?
Or is it all a matter of our imagination
A story line we confuse for life?
Or is this actual fact, feeling and love.
That I am just unable to reciprocate.
Despite believing I should.
Is this the fairy-tale people hope for
The fairy-tale I misunderstood.
Tyisha Humes Aug 2013
I’m a work in progress, 
Rebuilding walls man brought down, 
Finding myself defenseless, 
So blinded by deception, 
Wouldn’t know he loved me, Even if he meant it Constantly sabotaging one love for the next, Becoming selfish with hearts, 
Looking for one that fits my needs, 
Instead of me fulfilling his, 
Drowning in faults, 
With no way to reach to the surface, 
Tired of falling into the word victim, 
Beating myself up for being me, 
Baggage, A leave it or take it deal, 
He broke my heart, so I broke his. 
Yet I’m still broken, 
Looking for you to heal wounds, 
That was never meant to be seen, 
Scars cut so deep, I couldn’t help but let it be  Working on my progress, But nothings progressing, My heart goes in and out remission, 
Holding onto thoughts that you’ll stay till the end,Knowing your loves’ not a guarantee, 
Fighting with words “I can only be me” 
Realizing I have never been enough, 
But who am I changing for? Him? Or me? 
Working on my progress, But nothings progressing,Wanting to be more than just a scratch on his surface, 
Not another notch on the wall, 
Lying in adulterous, I see no future in, 
Yet I give my life, 
Loving you, loving me, 
But it will never be enough. 
Yet I give myself willingly, 
Promiscuity screws me, 
I’ll take the blame, Proving the guilt lies in me.Starving to find a better me, 
Free to love you the way you deserve, 
Passing you over, for someone worth less than you Terrified to give myself to you, 
So I leave, 
Running towards the nearest warm embrace, 
Yet you stay, yet you wait Loving me still, 
With every fault, Wanting me still, With every fault,Who am I changing for? Me? Or Him? 
I’m a work in progress, I’ll admit that
kels Oct 2016
Blood shot eyes making contact in the mirror,
pleading with the bleeding brain not to think, not to care.

Impaired and unshowered.
Denial runs deep.
Wide eyed and disheveled.
The only thing you ever commit to is drinking yourself to sleep.

And while you slowly ****** yourself,
I toss and turn, dissecting your thirst for freedom
and my adoration for all things unattainable
I try to be more like you; you're talented at being numb

Just how bothered would you be to see our similarities?
And how do you justify acting so different as to yesterday?
Would you be surprised to see that we're both sabotaging ourselves in such noticeable ways?
And how do you sleep at night knowing you could've had me there?
Do you wake up to the memory of my smile and pour another shot, let the alcohol repair?
Or are you convinced that, in me offering myself to you, I have served my purpose?
Am I yet another sentimental soul that fell for your twisted ways and was left feeling worthless?

Please, tell me, am I still myself after you've worn me down to sagging shoulders and blackened lungs?

Not enough strength left within to hold you up on your pedestal
No matter which disguise you wear
No end to confusion, but it's time to stop asking for answers
or for you to care
Jesse Alexander Aug 2014
I smoke and I think. I lament and I drink.

I tell myself in a few months it'll be someone else's name; and I tell myself that name will bring about a contrasting feeling to what yours brings me now

I lie to myself

But still I act surprised when your name stumbles through every corridor of my mind, opening every door and sabotaging every room - yet still finding nothing   inside my intellect appealing to renovate into something beautiful.

I clean up the rooms, I tighten lock the doors, I set alarms but none of it stops you from breaking in and destroying everything again.

I rebuild stronger each time and when I think I've finally locked you out and I think you've given up, you carefully pick each lock and you decimate everything again, leaving nothing beautiful for anyone else that passes by to relish, forcing them to leave without any interest of coming back.

Why the **** are you doing this to me?

You've been incarcerated in my subconscious and you long to escape.
And I won't let you.

So you destroy everything in your sight hoping the destruction will force me to set you free. But darling, I've lost the key to the only entrance of my mind and I don't have the strength to break open the gates myself until I've rebuilt everything I've allowed you to destroy.

I continue to lie to myself
a description of a girl i have feelings for that i can't seem to get over which prevents me from starting anything with someone new. I lie to myself by telling myself I want to get over her, when in reality i don't. she's all i want.

the poem ends without a full stop to elaborate on how this never ends and how i never stop lying to myself.

— The End —