Simulation: AbandonmentYou say I'm a loose cannon,Simulation: Abandonment by SheDares
but I'm solid cast iron(y) and roll with
the turbulence and tossing of an angry
ocean; I only fired because you lit the fuse.
Selfish is the one who tries to
end, rather than face another
day in hell, hurt another person
they care about, indirectly or by
merely being seen to self destruct
and somehow becoming an idol
in amongst the chaos; a bad
influence for the impressionable,
damaged, misguided, vulnerable,
blind admiration to follow, and
manipulative are the actions of
desperation despite honesty that
discharge at that time would lead
to another attempt.
That one's trouble,
Ignore the girl, hav
Quality control [MISTAKE.]Quality control by SheDares
It was a joke,
The first had a major malfunction,
the last was an accident,
Well, I was planned,
and a mistake (though they
tried to pretend it wasn't so).
I do wonder how much of a j/o/k/e/ it was and
how s/e/r/i/o/u/s/ they were being...
What an error indeed.
Expected to be normal but exraordinary,
expected to be middle but oldest,
expected to be child but mature beyond years,
emotional crutch, carer, sibling, child,
gifted and talented, leader, daughter,
punching bag (mostly figuratively),
the best at everything on an impossibly high plinth
even when I tried to jump to my death
(that's where forced perfectionism gets you)
after I cut and scarred false idols
and shattered futures and friendships,
and gave up hope of
NitroglycerineYou could mistake it forNitroglycerine by SheDares
bleeding vodka, drunk on
a lifetime of fury no longer
suppressed by a bursting
dam, cracks leaking clear
instead of scarlet turned
to nitroglycerin in my
veins, pull the trigger on
adrenaline bullets with every
controlled breath of losing
control smashing shattering
glass denting walls chipping
paint throwing knives at doors
not a sound nor a curse from
between my silent lips despite
the clamour of violent actions distress,
please do not disturb for I lash, I
floored my own blood the last time
my temper took over and I wish no
harm on another; I grew up being hurt in
anger and I would not bring the same fate on another.
Let us notTrouble us withLet us not by SheDares
your leering gaze
and empty stare,
Dare us with
the claws in fleshy wrists
and fingers 'round fragile bones,
Torment us with
flashbacks shockingly vivid
and nightmares a-plenty,
Exhaust us with
memories and ghosts and
what ifs and what could bes,
Haunt us with
attacks of panic and
reactions of the body...
Let not us rest,
Never heal from the wounds...
And another night is over.
KnittingYou will have to forgive me
How to be a parent1. Hit your child
DumbWhy s t a y • s • i • l • e • n • t •
RunnerI walked, at first.
Spirals and HurricanesSpinning, falling, down, down,
Ashes to ashesBurnt remains float on the draft,
I am 21 year old artist, writer, composer, singer-songwriter and jewellery maker.|
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No matter how dark the night gets, there will always be that tiny little spark waiting to blaze with life in the dawn...
Through a deeply emotional series of photography and poetry, explore the world of an individual with mental illnesses and how they are learning to overcome the accompanying difficulties.
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Mona Lisa smilingLet’s talk about wanting to fall apart;
Let’s talk about over-riding the one instinct
we all have in common,
Let’s talk about not wanting to get out of bed
for a day,
Let’s talk about timing the whole day to have
the least amount of social contact.
Let’s talk about faking smiles more than not,
about inwardly grimacing every time someone asks
“you seem quiet today, what’s wrong?”
because how can you explain that for some reason
this whole spinning aimlessly around the sun thing has
gotten tedious and the only spinning you seem to
be doing is out of control.
(but there is a reason, one that stretches beyond
the oh-your-parents-divorced-what-a-shame and the
oh-your-dad-wasn’t-exactly-what-we-expected and the
because I can’t see an end to the worst things and my bad luck
is coming in ninety-nines.
Let’s talk abo
split like my
am the demigod,
the pill box,
the cat's third life,
fool's gold, fool's
i woke like psychosis
to the house fire,
missing my mania &
Fool Me OnceFool me once
I'll cut you twice.
Hurt me and
I'll kill you thrice.
If you can't be nice
Then away you should turn.
Little boys who play with fire
Get their fingers burned.
It's Okay to be SelfishSometimes, you have to do things just for yourself.
And that’s okay.
Sometimes you’ve got to stay in bed,
Empty your head,
And think of all the nice things
You've ever had said
And that’s okay.
Sometimes you’ve got to cry,
Scream like you’re going to die,
And just lie
Around, being sad.
And that’s okay.
Sometimes you’ve got to shut everything out,
Just forget about
What you want to be without.
And that’s okay.
Sometimes you’ve got to talk,
Just let the words walk
Out of your mouth,
Carrying your thoughts with them.
And that’s okay.
Sometimes you’ve got be selfish.
And that’s okay -
You do whatever it takes,
To get you through the day.
Happy SchizoFrom time to time
I get lost in my words,
Trying to differentiate,
My meanings from the birds,
I mean, the herds,
The group of people speaking in my head.
What’s the difference between a daydream and sleeping in bed.
See, I decided that all is reality,
But I’m considered crazy,
Because of my duality.
We have one reality in multiple existences.
One instance is my daydream.
Where my day seems great,
Until I hear those may screams.
The train passing by, not the rain dropping,
Or it’s just mixed, where people are screaming,
Because trains are falling out the sky,
Like rain drops and the main plot,
Is to hit me, how harsh.
Just want to hurt me and
Turn my field into a marsh. Well I won’t allow you,
So hand me the club, because it’s time to march.
Were close to the hole, so get the cart.
You… You don’t follow?
We were being pummeled by trains,
I trained to dodge those now,
So now, were in a cart driving safely,
Trying to find the Tao.
See, I see thin
wires.plastic-coated copper, melt and spark and weld a knot.
message received, transmission wave solitude
hear SOS, here i am.
operator, tiny cracking cry for help
here i am -
relieve me, retrieve my remainder
unhinge my jaw to get the entire story
hammer chisel, fizzle,
form a thought, automate the lock
analyze every syllable, every step in my walk,
every crooked brow and every hair out of place.
hear this cracking cry for self -
reveal the iris
paint the face.
recycle sweatshop clothes
reduce, use and reuse the soul.
and this bold stroke of character genius
will serve as proof of movement.
these flapping, clacking, screaming teeth
will swerve to shoot the messenger.
these legs, striding wide and low
will unnerve and boil the blood of you.
operator, here i am - anew and brimming with truth.
plastic-coated copper, welded knot, once tongue in cheek.
once was a cracking cry for help
once was timid, once was meek
once was only merely uttered weakly in my sleep
and spoken of behind closed doors
A What's Leftthe word needling-in
is a memory and name
just short of happened
just shy of sound
your lips move, but,
on the inhale,
on air rushing
toward the cracked
of broken insides
and i scratch
today's dust to find
a what's left to
let in, a strength to
snap the neck
pluck the feathers
from daily doings
a what's left
to tell us
that heaven holds them
while we can't
and it hurts like
air burns the
that isn't yet
to hold our angels in
i tell you and
us both, that
one miracle is more
than many ever get
i tell us
lots of things
to fill the gap
the past along
to soften this air
and break from
your body wakes
to remember him
day 6: who you are and who you should bei. do not rise gentle from the cautious dawn.
you were born a blank piece of paper;
you etched your stories into your canvas over time.
the problem with being paper is that
you're not the only one
who can choose what you look like to others.
they glue on labels over every inch of your body.
from hair to skin to intelligence to weight to gender,
they can determine where you'll go in "life", how many friends you have, if you'll end up a whore or a prude.
they cover your pure skin with scars and bruises and graffiti,
and your fragile airplane wings are too heavy with the weight of words to fly.
they tell you to do this, and that,
to go eat a salad, not to be "fat"
they'll tell you that it's alright.
4-5-15i. we are (awake in) the dead
the loss of life at an age so young is a
as is that of an elder;
if the unappreciated
"no one knows!"
people will step
carcass so that they
can make their way to work
(their boring job
that consists of sitting
at a desk and computer
a l l
d a y
l o n g
shall make them
something their wives'll
until they own the world)
ii. speaking of planets,
why would you devote
your entire life,
and soul to
offer me this earth?
iii. slap your money on the table and
don't touch it until morning.
kick off your shoes and loosen
your office tie;
stress isn't allowed past these
premises, mister major.
i'll be the sinning queen that everyone
knows and loves;
a beauty queen that everyone wants to
a figure of dependence and independence
all at the same time;
ah, the beauty of america.