Pace and Pace
Till the room fades
Till the faces appear
and you're finally safe
Pace and Pace
Till the time passes by
Till the world is right
and it's finally mine
The mind, when cornered by unbearable truth,
Builds walls from silence and locks from sleep.
It learns the art of leaving itself
While the body remains behind to suffer.
There are wounds no language can dress,
No reason can bind.
So the psyche invents distance—
A thin veil between terror and breath.
It begins in childhood,
When love becomes danger
And memory becomes poison.
The soul, desperate to survive,
Steps sideways out of pain.
This is not madness.
It is architecture.
The self fractures not from weakness,
But from necessity.
The mind, like a nation under siege,
Burns its bridges to keep the enemy out.
How bad can it become?
So complete that one no longer knows
Which voice belongs to whom.
So quiet that life feels like watching oneself drown
From the shore of one’s own body.
So distant that joy feels like a rumor
Heard through thick walls.
The person survives,
But the witness disappears.
Yet know this:
Dissociation is not the illness—
It is the scar.
Proof that something once threatened
To destroy the soul entirely
And failed.
For even in retreat,
The mind chooses life.
They say you never leave the house.
It’s a ghostly feeling by the tv.
When you live somewhere and hate it for no reason?
Remembering again and deflating.
And you’re getting cereal again.
And you’re getting things from places all the time.
Whirling.
They say you never leave the house.
That’s all it is.
They say leaving the house will solve everything.
So you packed your bag and walked to the bus stop.
Forgetting your name, but in a happy way.
I need to go somewhere beautiful, and I think this bus will take me.
That’s all there is.
I don’t know my address anymore!
Pack up everything again and again.
Hooray!
It’s a ghostly feeling by the camp fire.
There’s a whole world and I can live in all of it.
Camping on a bench really solved it all.
Dissociated
Looking around
Can’t connect the dots to who or what I was before
My feet have been stained by a hundred strains of grass
Seen and known outside the reach of this valley
Years of travel has worn my soles
Worn my soul
Chipped away the pictures I painted of the world I wanted
A cold world with a bitter tongue
The broken helping the broken because the fixers have all gone home
Your story is but a paragraph in a book of shattered hearts
A novel of shattered dreams
Scattered on the streets in puddles of liquid screams
Lines of hungry bellies waiting to make it another day
I wish we could feed on our fear
Then we would all eat like kings
Our souls are etched on the walls of the buildings in which we dwell
A reminder to those that follow
Pain was nurtured here
Ambient noise, the silent song of day,
TV static, and this high pitched ring.
Creating a vision through bloodshot eyes,
A vacant gaze meeting solemn void's stare.
Dreaming those vivid details as they play,
Savoring each moment and bitter sting.
Knotting and untangling all the ties,
From disposable camera that we share.
i feel like an empty jar,
waiting,
just for one thing.
to be filled.
i try to distract myself,
to fill the empty space,
however,
it’s almost like there’s a leak in the jar.
each effort to fill the jar,
becomes a brief moment of relief,
slipping through the cracks,
leaving me hollow,
wondering if anything can truly fill my jar
i search for the sealant,
something to fill the cracks,
but nothing feels sufficient.
leaving me with the same feeling as before,
a jar that can’t be filled.
Thinking about us
I come undone
Looking back I don’t know
Whether we lost or won
Voices in my mind
That I just can’t translate
But I know
I’ll learn to appreciate
I’m not laying blame
I’m not keeping score
I just wish I could find
Who I was before
All was taken
And more was lost
A dissociative fugue
Cost us the lot
What am I supposed to do
When parts of me
Trapped in the past
Are forced to flee?
Nobody sees
Just how hard this can be
Cut off from reality
Locked inside
Misery remains
Hanging by a noose
The final thread
one day will
be cut loose
We fight to run
We fight to return
We fight to live
We fight to die
When will the world see
Just how bad the
trauma was for me
I wasn’t lying
Or making it up
I had medical evidence
That backed me up
I’ll never understand
How a judge
Could’ve dismissed that
A little girl lay still
Quietly in her bed
Fighting the screams
That roared inside her head
Hiding the fear within
Eyes sealed shut
Breath contained
Too scared to move
She can longer stay
Too distressed
Her little brain floats away
Splitting itself
Forming new selves to take the pain
Anything to survive
This torturous hell
It's happening to another now
She's safe
Her psyche remains intact
Shielded from the events
Amnesia has taken care of that
When she returns
No longer aware
She continues on
As if nothing had ever happened
Totally oblivious to her own life events
We can thank Dissociative Identity Disorder for that.
Hands hovering above the sink.
The sound of blinds shuttering doesn’t make me blink.
The mirror catches all.
A shining chasm on the wall.
Across the threshold, into the sound.
Sounds indistinct so I don’t turn around.
I could have crashed, but still I don’t blink.
Next thing you know, it’s the kitchen sink.
Hands in soapy water.
Water that slowly gets harsh and colder.
But I don’t feel anymore.
There could be nothing outside that door.
Although, I suppose, there’s probably grass and flowers.
But I’d rather sit inside for hours.
My hands are washed, the dishes are dry.
Nothing is real, so why even try?
Blackest night is my heart
into its depths I can not see
All my life is mists of gray
nothing plain for me
I look deep into your eyes
and know what we had is gone
And still I see the shadows of love lost...
and wish it not bygone
Perhaps I will never learn,
at least that's what some would say
And all my life, wishful thinking
controlling all my days
The dilemma of dissociation (C) 1986 Susan Manley
I unplug myself from reality;
Dissociate myself from everything.
Put my body on aeroplane mode
To go back to the daydreams and delusions
Just so I could feel something.
But when I return I always find everything shattered
And so I try to pick everything up
And get back on track
Only to find I've lost everything in me.
The bits and pieces I've tried to connect
Were long gone before I knew.
Hallucinations, dreams and reality
Look all the same to me.
No longer able to tell them apart
I lose, once again, every sense of reality
Just to be an empty vessel numbed with nothingness.
there are rats digging into my skin
you couldn't imagine the pain that im in
claws so sharp, it won't take long
moaning, marbled, mournful song
they're in my eyes and in my ears
they've reached my stomach, all my fears
come flowing out, a rush of blood
and from my mouth, there comes a flood
of words I never couldn't say
of children that could never play
hooks pull apart this suit of pain
release the mess inside my brain
the anger that I never showed
the happiness I never owned
the secrets that were locked inside
the truth I always seemed to hide
the rats they're knawing at my core
like the grief and guilt you saw before
the memories left inside my mind
never could I leave behind
the notes I left inside my heart
in case we ever had to part
so when they rip me to the bone
I left a message at the tone
from the start I must begin
for there are rats digging into my skin
There have been plenty of times where i have been successful at only seeing the worst, hypothesising that it's one the most typical successes.
Then there comes a time where my mind can't possibly take it anymore. It becomes so numb towards pain.
After a brief period of dissociation my mind started paying heed to all the little things, involuntarily.
Why that happened? we don't know. But I'm glad it did.
I'm delighted my body was able to turn towards the light like that.
But what were those trivial things?
To be able to see the pink and purple skies until you recognise
When you were able to be of aid to a stranger in need
an unexpected acquaintance asking how you're doing and seeing young children playing.
Meeting a tiny pup on the streets, your doodling turns out to be a masterpiece.
A random stranger smiles at you,
the petrichor, the sensation of water tickling your feet on the shores and
of gentle sunrays kissing your face.
I suppose it's all just evidence that not everything in the cosmos is meant to be dreary.
This feeling of disconnection-
Is a part of the aftermath that I cannot explain.
It is as if I am being haunted by a part of me that is still innocent.
It is as if I am being chased by guilt that belongs to someone else.
Promises that I never said out loud.
That I eventually forgot in the haze.
I wonder how many times one person can be revived.
Before there is nothing left of them to undo.
i stare at my phone as my arms start to stretch,
stretching so long that i cannot catch
my brain, when it starts to pour,
pouring my memories all over the floor.
the floorboards like to creak whenever i’m near,
nearing their senses for the pouring i fear,
i fear i’m lost, and cannot regain
the noodly arms and thing i call a brain.
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