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When the Red Death held sway over us all
There is no pain
There is no remorse for life
Only blood flowing down lucidly
And don’t you see?
The blood is my haven
And I seek refuge in it
Every time

When he jumps off the 13th floor
Does he feel the wind
Freeing him
Or does he see blood oozing out
As his flesh slumps in it
Like a sleeping infant?
And he seeks refuge in it
Every time

When he cut his ear
Did the blood rush to his head
Or hands first?
Did he pour it into a cup
Or let it speak lazily?

Do you bathe in the very blood
That forms you
Or eat yellow paint instead,
Van Gogh style?
Do you let the waves brush you
Or build another door
That doesn’t tower over you?
Do you let the shadows watch you
Or do you sip your drink
And wait for all your hallucinations
To come alive?

And don’t you see?
The blood is my haven
And I seek refuge in it
Every time
A surreal confessional about refuge, death, and the body as myth. It lives in red.
I said:
“I think I have ADHD.”
They answered:
“No, you’re just a ******. Get a job.”

So I ran.
In circles.
Around a reality
that never gave me room to breathe—
just fingers pointed and ******* advice.

They didn’t see the war in my head,
just the pupils.
They didn’t hear the silence in me,
just the noise I made.

I asked for help—
they handed me judgment.
I reached out—
they recoiled,
like I carried plague and guilt in my veins.

And then—
years later,
when everything’s burned,
when I wear my diagnosis like scars and proof,
they show up.

With a box.
“Here’s Ritalin. It’ll help.”

Ritalin.
Legal speed.
The same thing they hated me for chasing
now handed over
wrapped in plastic and prescription smiles.

What the **** happened?
Was it the label that made me worthy?
The paperwork that made my scream real?

I was never chasing a high.
I was chasing peace.
I was never after drugs.
I just wanted to understand
why my mind never shut up.

But there was no room for that.
Not then.
Not until now.
Now that the system sees
what I’ve been screaming
the whole
****
time.
Written from the frustration of being mislabeled for years. I wasn’t chasing a high — I was chasing silence in a storming mind. Misunderstood as an addict, dismissed by the system, denied peace. This is for everyone who had to scream just to be heard. For those with ADHD, for the fighters, for the forgotten.
endure gracefully.
bleed beautifully.
but never too much,
never enough to make them uncomfortable.

cry.
but wipe your tears when you're done.
open your eyes wider,
don't look so depressed,
you're ruining the photo.

girly you can text me anytime
until we actually do
then its,
im not ur ******* therapist.
and a lingering guilt.

why has mental illness also produced standards we must meet,
standards in order to be accepted.
why are some shunned and some welcomed?

we are not an aesthetic.
not broken people in soft lighting.

i scream,
i rot,
i flinch when someone shows me affection,
i hate being hugged,
but still crave it the most.
am i still worthy of love?
not all pain is photogenic
abyss Jun 17
My prettiest words,
my sincerest thoughts,
the deepest parts of my heart—
you had them all.

I had eyes only for you.
Now I’m blind.

I don’t know where I’m going,
but I know where I’ve been.
I touched your heart
for just a moment—
and I could breathe.

Now I’m blind,
hooked to a breathing machine.
this came out in one go.
some loves feel like breath —
until you forget how to breathe without them.
abyss Jun 15
Shattered illusions.
Shattered hopes.
Shattered dreams.

A house with no structure
built from the remains of ruin.

A powerful soul
in a trembling body.

A house meant to fall.
A house that realized
it’s not a house at all -
just the memory of shelter
pretending to hold.

It asks,
"Then what am I?"

But no one answers.

And so,
what’s left
sinks into the soil,
quietly turning
back into earth.
Who are you when it all comes crashing down?
Iha May 31
"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she questioned)
Lying on her lap, fingers snap and tap,
Thumbs beat like drums, lost in monochromatic numbs.

"Side effects of the pandemic"
(she laughed)
Teens with their trauma, entwined with karma,
Does depression have one S or two?
Like spelling it right makes it less true.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she sighed)
History which couldn't hide, traces left, of what time had dyed,
Echoes of memories, lost, drifting like leaves, forever tossed.

"Sometimes you forget,"
(she softened)
A slurring voice, back in the club's heavy noise,
Not every ache is the dreaded cry, yet what’s the point in asking why?
******* those heels and let the makeup get you by.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(she cried)
Every laugh's taxed, the smile lines waxed,
Joy's inflation, making me starve, in a world of elation.

"It’s not that deep,"
(she hissed)
You think too much, your coffee's gone cold.
Do I (you) dream, or do I (you) dare?
People wish they had my (your) share.

I'm (You're) fine.
I'm (You're) here.
I'm (You’re) breathing air.

"Have you ever been depressed?"
(silence)
A flatline's ring, a ghostly sting,
No icebergs roam, just foam and loam.

"No one throws the raft you see,"
(she spit)
For a ship that’s sunk, down with a clunk,
Life's a cruel parody, why expect rescue for this tragedy?

Cutting off what's meant to be, such is the selfish strategy.
How i hate those (you's) but still love you is forever a mystery darlin
Iha May 6
Broken crayons still color,
She'd say, "I'd be ****** if I forget,
And let the water wash my spark away."

Jumped where the tides barely speak,
She'd say, "I'd be ****** if I left,
And deaf to the calling waves I keep."

Heavier heartbeats marked the tide,
She'd say, "I'd be ****** if it didn't,
And erase the memories I couldn't hide."

Stones in her thoughts sank the soul,
She'd say, "I'd be ****** if that's true,
And sinking in the shallow end? That ain't what I do."

Dragged into the darker tide,
She'd say, "I'd be ******, but this hurts,
And I'll drown happily with my heart, embracing the burn."

Broken crayons still color,
She'd say, "I'd be ****** but it's true,
I ain't wax, mama!
I'm shattered glass, betrayed, in my break."
laughing and crying at the same time is very efficient :)
abyss Jun 13
Dreams, so many dreams
Some forgotten, some waiting to happen

am I one of those dreams?
forgotten after the morning alarm
or waiting to come knocking?

forgotten, or waiting to happen
am I a forgotten dream,
or are you waiting for me too?

dreams, so many dreams
overflowing with them

will I reach them,
or will I have to forget them?

each day, an ache that never ends
but when —
when will it be enough?

time.
time is cruel for a dreamer.

and what am I
if not a dreamer?

a dream
or a dreamer

I guess I’ll know someday,
but not today.

time, time is cruel for a dreamer
sometimes too slow
sometimes too fast
a never-ending agony

dreams,
so many dreams

some forgotten...
just like me

and yet —
I keep dreaming.
my first poem ever.
the first two lines wouldn’t let me sleep,
and somewhere between silence and thought,
the rest found me.
Narco Jun 5
Putrid,
Repulsive,
Disgusting;
is but human nature.

A deceitful smile brings hurt;
yet a frown brings concern.
No one is out to get you;
yet no one is there to help you.

I want to be great;
a human without hate.
Am I worth something;
worth at least a couple of glances.
Before I die, I want at least a goodbye.
Humans are horrible —
yet I crave their attention.
Just thinking about human nature
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