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Miss_Sub (- Missy -)
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RUNNERS-UP: Jade-Pandora and nightbirdblue

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Diagnosis

poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 24th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 9

Schizophrenia


She’s a liar with a mask
And every time that you ask
She replies, “I’m okay,
Never one to complain”

But every night can’t close her eyes
Collapsing over all her lies
And every morning her cheeks are wet
The salty sting of her regrets

Can’t find the strength to voice her sickness
Less she get in line with all the victims
Countless times she stifles pain
Her lifeless efforts go in vain

Quiet tears pour from her eyes
Each tear a voice to match her lies
Tortured nightmare that she breathes
In a world sick with disease

For now she’ll wear her mask of lies
Along with an unconvincing smile
Postpone the callings of her heart
One day soon, she will fall apart

Written by nightbirdblue
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poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 24th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 9

Confinement

 
paralyzed
by Borderline
Personality Disorder
quiet
and confined
carving creations
out of darkness

specified dynamics
domination
deviates intention
delineates compulsion

crying
uncontrolled emotions
curling up inside
only folded

like little pieces
of paper
valiant in nature
but suppressed

hiding...

I am the darkness

Written by nightbirdblue
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poet
composedWITHrazors
Blade Artist
Twisted Dreamer
United Kingdom
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 84

PHQ-9

PHQ-9

A.

fill in the boxes with pen or pencil to mark your answers
over the last two weeks how often can you count your pain
its multiple choice, so easy for fuckups and romancers
we add it all up at the end and decide if you are needy or insane

little interest or pleasure in doing things number one
or are you feeling far too down, depressed and hopeless to tick a box
insomniac, walking asleep half of all days, some times non
ticking energy levels like a 16 bit hero 0 1 2 3 cheat unlocks

nearly every day a poor appetite and then overeating
more than half the days paranoid like an NHS conspiracy
ticking boxes in an exam fuckup, constantly repeating
total score plus plus plus equals question B

B.

if you have been bothered by any problems listed above
please answer how difficult is it in your social interactions
one of four boxes ticked, so when push comes to shove
we can prescribe our latest meds and social interventions

we can give you pills today with no guarantees
your high blood pressure may make you collateral %
long wait on CBT and psychodynamic talking therapies
please just pause your self destruct, its something we can prevent (?)

distract yourself by ticking boxes, pop plastic bubbles
this format not repackaged under cold utilitarian stares
just accept each box that gets ticked will alleviate your troubles
PHQ-9 foremost checklist that quantifies who is well or truly despairs
Written by composedWITHrazors (Blade Artist)
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poet
sinisterspital
Sinister Spital
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 21st Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 14

Dilapidated examinations

Rattle loose the blackout moments  
 of a psychopath unchained  
whether willed or by circumstance  

It's on the ledge of one's  
fortitude is seen clear  
     the wear that life has  
 threaded basics of need  
 
Overdosing a diagnosis silently  
 through pharmaceutical sales,  
pilfered bottle hysteria quelled  
 
Four times unlucky my dark  
mistress’s kiss, was saved  
 three times by living machines  
 
Warded for these erratic attempts,  
 not that a sirens warning could've  
 made the run aground clearer  
 
Pennies worth of guidance in paper  
 suits dressed, inundated opposite pursuit with less attraction  
 
Feral fingers flick open scabs that  
 I hold as safety blankets reasoning recurring nightmares shared  
 
Inexplicably hardwired
backwardness as the shadows
have always been my awkward kin  
 
Whispering unintelligible candor on forked reptilian tongues, wanting
 the frenzied blood letting show  
 
A gallows retreat in failure  
 to subdue these visions  
 of soiled pastel atrocities  
was cradled by a foot  
 
Leading me into lithium progressions, chemically offsetting the finest  
 attributes a placenta can birth  
 
Born fetal moonshine syndromes,  
in luck that a reflection doesn't  
 garner drastic cries of shame  
 
Broken at the foundations  of development, cast to be pauper,
 jester of frivolous wedded games  
 
Toiled in resistance until I would  
come to severe flesh expressing
in manifestations ousting my pain  
 
Decades have passed this vessel  
cold, four chambers of jaded
 ash, billowing signs of life  
 
Cremating my soul in serendipitous  
 folly of the greater disasters  
 borne by crooked steeple molds  
 
To shatter all variants of my relative human visages seen from the
 furthest abandoned shores, I implode  
 
© Sinister Spital 2018/3
Written by sinisterspital (Sinister Spital)
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poet
sinisterspital
Sinister Spital
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 21st Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 14

Succumbing to Storms

 
In the early bright sitting idiosyncratic    
    in a daze amongst wooded serenity,  
chartreuse this forest canopy bedded above  
   crystal cerulean waves rushing softly.  
Not my usual set of distorted instances, I'm isolated,  
in peace rather than split amongst hesitant ides.  
I do love the solidarity of this sprawling estate,  
  talking sofas deem quite good for my insurgencies.  
   
This land storied in rich character, tragic misfortunes,  
  a place once treasured for its sacred bounty.  
Hip~shot on wagon wheels of hells fury decimation came,  
arcane idolaters blood driven slaughtered the natives.  
Now vexed eternal in tragic sorrow this sanctuary deemed,  
  unnatural occurrences from spirited forefathers loom venomous.  
However I find this land welcoming to my deplorable means,  
   here there's few inhabitants so sound is quelled slightly.  
   
My condition attended by qualified vigilance in bleach white,  
 faceless caretakers who regular my domicile with diligence.    
Therapeutics now dreamy in effect as i'm rendered docile,  
 not filed in varied irrational schisms gone too fast.  
Just two eventides passed since gorging luscious feasts,    
   watering my palate; moistening it like late July rains,  
so enthralled was my appetite it diverted abstinence,  
breaking my usual fasting of ponderous perplexities.  
 Heightened was my vivacity which for many lunar,  
 rotations, has found hibernating it's doomed apathy.  
   
Dusks blanket brings alive this landscape,  
 now wild with calls of nocturnal stimulation.  
As the visiting golden Oracle leaves, unsettled    
  waters spew murky perception across the gap.    
Cracking of shattering Ions roll in viciously from south,    
the distant quaking stripping my momentary reprieve.  
 Just as Domino's once stacked now toppled frantically,    
i'm raptured in affected throws of blindsided lunacy;  
 a victim of delusional warfare that leads astray  
 a ship lacking mast to edges of a flattened world.  
    
 Radular these scurrying minions run amidst diabolical  
 incantations spewed forked Tongues, sapphire eyes.  
Persistently invasive at my loss of evasive maneuvers  
 so the depth of it is no longer shoulder lower than I.  
 Strictly stagnant and vast these shadow filled halls  
 violently flashing with loud cracks, storm approached swiftly.  
 Diagenic these retinas unfocused in hysteria's bosom    
impulse beyond reason, i’m feeling darkened infamy.  
   
Choking and terrified as constrained lungs attempt    
to force past a throat seized under heathen evaluation.  
 “fuck.k..Fuck You” squeaking out in fragments against    
burbled rantings of this imposing tyrannical ritualistic homage.  
   
Failed it seems as suicides requiem shows its feature,    
a witching hour matinee one hopes to never attend.  
I am the offering of a thousand dead natives screaming,    
enlightened ones rashly plucked from the grand scheme.  
   
This estate now a catacomb of vibrantly loud shrieks,    
tenacious cackling and cataclysmic agony seething.  
Shackles me in jackets of restraint, leery wall clocks hiss    
as grotesquely fingers invade my ears, nose and mouth.  
Inundated my veins pierced are drenched in Thorazine,    
doses administered not that of a sane physician's hand.  
Forced to succumb to electrode pulses firing high wattage,  
 shaking and seizing upon my already too feeble mind.  
   
Near catatonic in subsonic shivering of a sequestered vessel,    
missing the expression this contorted mask can't equate.  
Pupils dilated, stuck on visions of giant demonic beings,    
raping serenities virginity with malicious force.  
Cresting chromatic sepulchres cornered in masochistic    
enthusiasms one would never entomb a life by.  
 Dissected in thrashing segments by tiny teeth, deformed nails,  
 these demons devour the remains of my worth, luscious moments gone.  
   
Dont gather much in perception thats clear or assimilated in time,    
think it’s been weeks surrounded by voices vulgar inflections.  
These moments pass like years without illumination or sight    
the days drag on like molasses chilled on tattered dead flesh,  
stuck in position by tacky substance I believe came from me…  
reminds my echoing synapses the lull this heart is beating to.  
Backwards digression in horrific overtures provocate terror,    
packaged and gleaming reflections of a sharpened blade carving.  
   
I am a funeral procession lacking momentary display,    
but a corpse rotting upon grief-less shores.  
Slipping off into eternal quagmires, lackluster eulogies…  
 severed in a garden of storming schizophrenic attacks.    
   
©Sinister Spital 2017  
   
   
   
 
Written by sinisterspital (Sinister Spital)
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poet
drone
Dangerous Mind
Greece
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 435


The diagnosis
is not good
when the patient
refuses to see
that the fear
of what
Other people Say
if they let
Their mind
Run free
to all the Possibilities
to all
what could be
if the patient
opens their mind
and makes their eyes
receive
the medicine
that they need
to show the herd
there is no fear
when you are Free
to Think
the thoughts
to form
the words
to gather a group
to Demand the Things
that Should be






poet
usernames_r_lame
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 20th Nov 2016
Forum Posts: 46

The Enemy

The Chill
Seems to be ever consuming at times
Enemy of the cold nights
Tranquil in the silence
But the sun sometimes swallows me too
I wasn’t running
I didn’t know I should have been
I wasn’t running

And sometimes you’re like a rubix cube
And I am just like anything else that dances in the wind
I’ve started holding onto things again
The things I’m in fact trying to throw somewhere else;

Do you ever wonder
What it would have been like
If we weren’t so sure
If we met any later would we have grown together?

Sometimes
I see you in my dreams the way I used to before we met
And it is almost more real than seeing you in person
Delusions on overdrive
How foolish of me
What we didn’t know didn’t hurt us;

Sometimes the enemy is sly
It tiptoes so beautifully on the leaves and sticks and acorns
The sounds almost blend into the trees
And I close my eyes
And it closes its eyes
And the sound is gone
I have lost to the way the river looks back at me
I am ashamed
But not enough
Maybe nothing will ever be enough
Voluntarily
Looming colors
I must learn so much

And there is so much to say to you
Yet when I finally look at you all I can muster are tears
And I will never be good for you
The way I want to be
I don’t know if anyone will

I want to be gone again

Written by usernames_r_lame
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poet
T_V_Walker
Twisted Dreamer
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Joined 28th Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 35

Eternally Sick

 
A polluted kiss    
Leaves the Lungs    
In bits    
The Lurgy has you    
Those without it,    
Hiss    
Dead vapours drift    
From the underground    
Down from the mist    
Cough out    
Rancid spit    
The flu that lasts for years  
Sits on your lips    
Clung to the breast    
A baby made of stone    
Digs into your chest    
Swords in flesh, in bone    
Mucus rebels after the throne    
More infectious than depression    
Longer than winter    
The Lurgy leaves    
None alone    
   
Written by T_V_Walker
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poet
cloventongue89
Nathaniel Peter
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 360

Angst Revolution

Nothing inspires but everything offends
And only the best message is conveyed with the rawest emotion
I can’t get lost in a stranger’s eyes
But you’re taken with the words

You, like an un-dead audience, a ghost behind a thousand faces
Dismiss what you can’t hold a candle to
Our illusory self-image projected like a surrogate embodiment
With a tarnished point of view

A lie re-versed of a thousand tongues will never tell true
Why do you hate me when I’ve never even met you?
Taunted behind, a pseudonym mime
Puppet to lust and misnamed a lover
No intimacy to be had with anyone undercover

Shared paranoia, something we see
Calibrating voice, you speak something like me
Searching for a way to frame everyone
And name ourselves casualty to their eyes
Desperately seeking self-validation
Am I someone only a stranger can love?
When knowing me is good cause to despise

Poster children of the pitiful
Has our innocence died with toy stores?
When we’re more suitable to education at the hands of the corrupt
Leading us astray to protest for the end of ourselves

I speak through a haze of confusion
Caught between beauty and grandeur's of delusion
Stray comets orbiting me when I’m the center of my universe
I’m drowning in a stream of consciousness
It seems on our quest for meaning we only get worse

Consumed of identity markets for trade
We capitalize on a better way to verse a tragedy
Certainly I’m not alone in this void
As I turn every onlooker into a mirror to find the flaws in me
Tell me, what gives you the right to tell me what to be?
Written by cloventongue89 (Nathaniel Peter)
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poet
AEMelia564
Y
Tyrant of Words
Norway
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Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 1893

Spiral into dismay (diagnosis "Life")

In my mind  
There is an image    
Of a lighthouse    
Standing amidst    
shores of greyish water    
Quiet cliffs    
Are ever watching    
   
My mother's eyes    
Are half sunken    
Into her eyelids    
She washes our hair    
And throws away    
The water    
Her hands    
Form    
Her pressence    
She never smiles    
   
My sister's curls    
Are the finest    
She has ever known    
They shine    
Like obsidian    
   
My brother is    
An angel    
without    
Wings    
   
Me, I am    
The half light    
In the morning    
And the microscopic    
Eye    
   
My sister is always wearing    
A white dress    
She rides the    
Wooden horse    
So fast    
It hangs    
On its surface    
   
While she preforms    
Her act    
I pretend    
I am me    
   
My sister is crying    
She is screaming    
Her doll is dead    
   
One day my mother tells me    
There would have been one more    
Or perhaps four, of us    
She tells me she lost a child    
I came instead    
   
I am only a child then myself    
Perhaps I am born of ashen    
I am holding a sceance    
For our dead sibling    
I cannot find ghosts    
in the glass eye    
   
My sister holds my grandmothers hand    
My gratitude is that of a black sheep    
I am the devil in disguise    
   
That night I write a letter    
to my grandfather    
If I would pray    
I would ask him    
Come find me    
   
I am a tree    
A diadem of dried wall flowers    
I refuse to wear my sisters shoes    
   
I am a river    
A soaring    
Leaf    
   
At dusk    
I ask    
The dunes    
Take me    
With you    
   
My sister grows old before her time    
She plays "dancing barefoot"    
Though her soles never    
Have known    
The earth    
Like I have    
   
My sister , the queen    
Looses her glass slippers    
Diagnosis unknown    
Of which she    
Never told me    
   
One night she drives her car    
As a ghost rider    
She claims    
She did not    
Take her pills    
That day    
   
Her car hits the rails    
Beside the road    
She tells me    
About it    
As I lay my ear    
Against    
The receiver    
   
And think of my mother    
The repetition and tembre    
Of her voice    
   
I cannot help her    
Her endless recording    
Continues    
   
She says she did not mean it    
But I see it coming    
In the halway    
Of my mind    
   
She is on the surface    
Of her childhood    
Speaking in riddles    
   
I am thinking backwards    
Of an inner vision    
I who have my mothers eyes    
Though she clearly has    
Inherited her broken spirit.    
   
Later I hold my mothers hands    
On her deathbed    
Reminding me    
Of snow    
In winter    
   
She speaks to me    
My sister has just left    
She drove off, in a taxi    
At midnight    
Like cinderella    
   
After my mother's death    
My sister stops calling    
She has destroyed all our pictures    
Of our youth    
   
I do not see(k) her    
She comes to me    
In dreams    
   
Finding teardrops    
In winebottles    
That she keeps    
As tokens    
   
One day she will take that walk    
She will leave her world behind    
Until she does    
   
I will bring her seashells    
Make her listen    
To the sea    
   
I will stand alone    
At the lighthouse    
Knowing    
She    
   
Is    
Free
Written by AEMelia564 (Y)
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poet
wallyroo92
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 504

Imaginary Lovers

Of all the imaginary lovers and scenarios he ever had
No matter how good or bad, he always came back to her
She had the perfect form that wouldn’t change or age with time
But something had gone awry somewhere along the way
That day he thought he was beginning to lose his mind
When physical signs and evidence started manifesting

Although he tried to abstain from her, he couldn’t contain it
He couldn’t restrain his need and yearning for the prohibited
He exhibited quiet and normal behavior but with false pretenses
As his senses schemed more elaborate sets and arrangements
He was always patiently looking to indulge in his urges and whims

But in the mornings when he woke up, she was always gone
He felt withdrawn but excited she left hints and clues behind
All kinds of things, casual things random things, were moved
And the aroma of her perfume seemed to stay in the room
Until she would come to him in his dream the next night

She seemed like an apparition, always timely and punctual
Their intellectual conversation always started very innocent
She was very diligent with every word that poured from her lips
Like a lullaby, he thought, that seemed to turned into seduction 
But somewhere in the function, in the midst of their dialogue
A mist, a fog, a haze would come over and infiltrate his mind
There were times he thought she was some kind of enchantress
Dressed in white like a deviant angel that came to ease him

But it was one specific night when his fantasy had gone bizarre
As far as wanting to strangle her in the midst of her climax
Not to kill her but so as to enhance her orgasm even more
And to his horror when he finally woke up the next morning
His face had been bandaged up
She left scratches all over his face

She didn’t come back to him after that particular night
No matter how hard he tried to close his eyes and see her
He couldn’t
But it was about six months later
When the treatments had taken effect
He became lucid for a day

Then he remembered…
How every night at the same hour she came into his room
To pick up his dinner tray then sat at the edge of his bed
How sometimes they’d chat as she administered his meds
How somewhere between the drugs taking their effect
And she cleaned his room, he dozed off into his illusions
How that night he remembered the look of terror in her face
How she screamed, loud enough for the entire ward to hear
How the male nurses strapped him in as he smiled ear to ear

He looked at his reflection in the window and saw a much older man
Not the youth he thought he was, or is or used to be
But it seemed that time and imagination had slipped away from him

poet
composedWITHrazors
Blade Artist
Twisted Dreamer
United Kingdom
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 84

Thanks to everyone who got involved. Every write was honest and brutal. Thanks for sharing and connecting over such a difficult subject. Takes guts to expose yourself this way.

You guys are cool as fuck.

peace, B

poet
Miss_Sub
- Missy -
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
82awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 26th June 2011
Forum Posts: 6668

To come first against NightBirdBlue’s little piece of awesomeness was a real honour.

Thanks for this comp and giving mental health a bit of a voice.

poet
nightbirdblue
Fire of Insight
United States
1awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 9

Your work is beautiful Missy! I’m honored to be a runner-up on this comp. Everyone expressed some tenderness here, so to all- may you find peace within <3

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
114awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3894

My deep thanks to you, our host B, for giving all of us the opportunity when it comes to expression of what the poet and the reader both seek to find.

🔑


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