Are you going to make me sit on a pin?
Are you going to prick me with a pin?
Are you going to chase me with a pin?
Is the guy in the flat upstairs trying to hook me like a fish hook through my mouth? Through the ceiling?
This is the dove stone
If you stamp on it
Something falls out of the sky
Come on stamp on it with me
The streets answer me now
other people have problems
Are you going to put me in a cage? Are we getting smaller?
Are you going to slam the door in my face? Please don’t slam the door in my face.
My mum says the diazepam… Wait Valium is it? It’s makes me less psychotic.I’ll tell you what I’m taking though.I’m taking magnesium and chalk it makes me magnetic the cooker is pulling me towards it
Are you going to hit me with spoon? on the head? Are you going to reece me with a spoon ? I’m always afraid someone will … so like to get them first.
I go up to them on the street
and bop them on the head with a spoon
i’ve had some funny reactions
I don’t want to teach people how to fly.
Does anyone know exactly what’s going on here?
It’s all a bit limited
I burned all my writing after hospital
Bet there were some lines
I talk about day to day events and real life. With regards to my illness, I talk about the same olé’ sh*t. Only with people I trust though. The brain study. How I am being watched, monitored and controlled etc. but I’m totally functional. When I am psychotic, I lose touch and embark on some wild fantasy (paranoid or grandiose) that is related to my delusion. And, of course, my behavior is affected.
when I was off meds the hallucinations told me fantastic things like my soul is 400 trillion years old. but the hallucinations are always in a code. twice they got me to laugh for 45 minutes straight. they also told me terrifying things. when I asked them why they are doing this they said to prepare me for when God arrives. they said tuberculosis will come back like it used to. then I found out drug resistant tuberculosis is a real thing.
I remember having a phone call with my brother and I was talking to him about three-dimensional copies or teleportation. it was something so weird that I can’t really remember exactly what I was talking about, but my brother was so cool about it. he didn’t even laugh or call me weird. when I think about that phone call, I feel sad though.
When I’m ill with sz I usually complain that Alien is putting his thoughts in my head, that I am hearing voices, that I’m a hypocrite or a monster or that I am a burden to my loved ones. Otherwise it’s an internal struggle and I don’t speak much.
I’m always deeply ashamed of my disorganized thoughts. It sounds like the thoughts of five people randomly combined. I always keep it in my mind or whisper about it to myself. The insecurity gets quite silly, and it hurts.