bpd · mental health · poetry · spoken word

Time

What do we seek in time and space?

When we leave this world without a trace.

Our ashes might fly into the night sky,

Or dirt may lay on what was once called ‘me’.

Who I am right here means just the same as I was there,

I’m a mystery, an illusion, I’m filled with fantasy and confusion.

What I am to you I was something completely different to someone else.

Part of your thoughts and feelings made me who I am, and will make me who I was.

So why hang onto it all? Our memories, our emotions and our possessions,

Our opinions, our hates, and our lifelong obsessions? 

They will not fly with us into the night sky,

Nor lay with us for eternity as this thing we call time passes us by.

Seek and you shall find,

Escape the walls put up by your mind.

a-trip-through-time-and-beyond

mental health · poetry · reading · stigma

The Sea

You cannot tame the sea,
So why try to tame me?
Forever a child,
My life cannot be predictable or mild.
Do not put the bird in the cage,
It only causes resentment and rage.
Beauty is in this storm,
It whistles and howls always changing form.
Loving her can be like a war,
But no truer love was ever saw.
I love you as you are,
Was only ever whispered from afar.
Up close you see me as strange,
This child you want to change.
But you cannot tame the sea,
So why try to tame me?

Wild Seas xsm adjusted

anxiety · depression · mental health · paranoia · poetry · reading · spoken word · stigma

Empty Screens & Empty Faces

How do I discover my place in this life, where do I fit in?
All that I see in front of me does not gratify the burning need within.
Doomed to feel lonesome while the world continues online,
While here on the outside I find so little to truly call mine.
Who am I out here? Who am I to you?
A profile picture, a twitter account, or someone you can relate to…
I’m not trying to hate or judge nor attempting to offend,
But people seem less genuine in person now and that statement I will defend.
As who takes the time for coffee anymore?
Who looks up from their phone for a moment, to politely hold open the door?
When was the last time you had a date without using an app?
Or the last time you didn’t scroll through your phone when taking a nap?
Have we become powerless with our eyes always glued to a screen!
Missing out on the world around us questioning ‘what does this life really mean?’
The nation calls us zombies walking around like the ‘living dead’,
To get things off our chest, we don’t speak to one another but write a status instead.
Apparently they used to write letters taking the time to know what to say,
Now we just violently tap our phones shoving our feelings out there on display.
Imagine if we went back in time where all this technology didn’t exist,
I feel our relationships with people might be deeper and not so easily dismissed.
I know society doesn’t often allow it but why don’t we try to put our phones down,
Step out the front door and discover real life, not being concerned about others around.
Let’s go back to the basics of human nature and learn how to interact,
Discovering ourselves and the world once more without the internet to distract.
As life isn’t happening on those screens with no heartbeat or face,
It’s here and its surrounding you, so lift up your eyes and don’t let it go to waste.

Handy-Wahn-Video

bpd · depression · help · mental health · poetry · reading · stigma · suicide

The Last Chapter

(WARNING: potential trigger alert)

 

The gentle fizzing noise in the background soothes my spinning mind,

Finally no need for any answers, no need for any lies.

Soon this will all be over, no more fighting anymore,

Just take another sip and keep an eye on the door.

Though mainly used for headaches, this substance numbs my pain,

The more I seem to drink the less I have to explain.

A few more deep breaths and then my head falls on the floor,

Eyes are starting to close, I guess only dying has won me this war.

 

11

anxiety · bpd · depression · help · mental health · poetry · reading · spoken word · stigma

The Struggle

Oh how bitter these sorrows taste,
Positive thinking just gone to waste.
I crave a glass of something sharp and sweet,
Only a drop wouldn’t mean I’m a cheat.
These healthy remedies cannot blur my mind,
And depriving me of this escape seems so unkind.
I want to go out dancing and let my hair down,
Have a few shots then hit up the town!
Each drink made me feel lighter as my cares would melt away,
Leading me to believe I’ve outsmarted my dark day.
Yet wait, I see in the distance here comes the storm,
One moment I’m laughing and joking, the next I transform!
Becoming this tornado destroying everything in my path,
I beg don’t get in my way as I cannot stop my wrath!
Sweet liquid you tricked me, I thought you’d set me free,
Why can’t I be like the others having fun around me?
These feelings become a fire of which even you can’t put out,
A flammable liquid that once taken sends the flames throughout.
Even though I know this is the outcome I still struggle to avoid,
watching others out there having fun makes me so annoyed!
But all the things your poison stole from me cuts deeper than any knife,
and even though the struggle is real without you I’ve had a chance to take back my life.

image

depression · mental health · poetry · reading · stigma

Sweet Memory

Maybe you were only ever a fairytale to me.
I fell in love with love, which I found in you.
When I look at you now I feel my heart twisting,
as it stirs to find the love that was once shared.
But it’s fading in you.
Every time I see you I’m a little lighter,
as the weight of loving you lifts off me.
I feel like I may finally be free to love again.
Like the rose tinted glasses have been removed,
and I see you for what you are.
Just a boy.
I was so proud to love you once, to call you mine.
Now I don’t even know who you are.
If we pass again it’ll be as strangers.
As if we’d never kissed, as if we’d never made love.
Just two strangers, who have no idea who the other person is.
Goodbye sweet memory.

Image result for nostalgia photography

depression · mental health · poetry

Help

Something is trying to kill me,

It doesn’t want me alive.

It fills me with confusion,

Burying a deep sadness down inside.

I wish I could describe this feeling without sounding insane.

About the battle going on within me,

Of the demon picking away at my brain.

If my life had any meaning he’s drained me of it somehow,

No space for any logic or reason, it’s too late for me now.

As while he has control of messing with my mind,

Though supportive suggestions are given to me

No peace will I find.

Image result for depression men