War

Arguing and yelling
Doubting and threatening
Typical
Battle of the voices
I’m dying to stop the noises
Overdose?
Maybe so
End my life
Win the war
Victory!
No!
Prozac is in store
60mg pop em and swallow
My life routine
Someone save me,
This internal battle
Will be the end of me
They won
My life
The war

By: Keisha

Bookmark and Share

They’re Just Flowers

I’d had another
pointless and
futile
argument
with my
mother in the
living room.

It was about not taking my
medication. I hated
myself for being
pedantic and
petit.

She’s a woman of
experience, and at
her maturity
she’s had
time to know
my faults. Her patience
was tested for the
billionth
time.

My mum
was only
being considerate
and loving.

The truth is
when a child has schizophrenia,
it is usually the mother
who takes the
mountain of
responsibility, and has to
take care of their
loved ones.

My head was filled
with paranoia, and
I thought she
was evil, but oh how
wrong could her
son be?

As I dialled the
number I didn’t really
understand the
point of them:
flowers.

But when the
florist
arrived, I was taken
aback by the smile
all over
her boundless face.
In one moment
I had said more
than

sorry,
or thank you,
expressed more
than gratitude,
and that of
forgiveness.

And as she
placed them
in a vase. I pondered,
on what they
had
embodied, a bunch of
fine aroma’s, with
hollow green stems
and colourful
trumpets,
maybe,

except to her
they
were the
answer to
every
argument we’d
ever had,
and, all those
words I didn’t
mean. To her they
were more
than a bunch of flowers,
for not one
word, that comes from a
son’s reckless mouth,
could fill the gaps
between his
heart, and the empty
hollow stems
of man.

David Holloway

Bookmark and Share

Stuck

Spying, crying.
Talking, mocking.
Screaming, creeping.
I can feel them in my head.
I only wish they were under my bed.
There’s no light when they start speaking.
I’m stuck in the dark, my cranium creaking.
My mind is abused, every day.
There are people in my head and down my hallway.
When it starts, nothing’s real.
The monster in my head escapes and makes sure I know how he feels.
We battle, it’s futile.
I die every time, it’s beautiful.
It’s scary, it’s intense,
I lose every time, offence or defence.
I’m frozen, like ice.
I can’t fight this fight and I can’t find the light.

By: Ragan

Bookmark and Share

Untitled

This is a matter of life or death, I’m righteous yet
I still adhere to medication with suicidal side effects
The super-ego that’s the self-critic inside your head
I am my own worst enemy because everything outside these lens
Does not exist, so where do we go from here?
I say gather all your insecurities and battle all your fears
I mean it’s either that or live mentally paralyzed
By these creatures in disguise that exist inside your mind
It’s like a psychic virus spreading violently
Taking goals and ambition in exchange for privacy
“You can have what I spare for you just eat up and be quiet”
“The last thing we need is your people in a riot”
That’s the math behind deception, another night out in Gotham
Eyelids fixed in a position where blinking is not an option
It’s modern day Ludovico call me Alex in a Clockwork Orange
Might be the hardest using pens and pads to pierce my target

By: Porfirio Trinidad

Bookmark and Share