Dissociation: a poem

Sometimes I beg to pull the strand of dna

That contributes to my mental illness,

Set it alight with my broken synapses.

Suffocate it with my blurred and dark trauma.

If only it were that simple. If only the misery

Didn’t feel like being in the middle of the ocean,

Alone, and ready for impending death.

I play with the idea that the highs, were

Sane, unfiltered happiness. Not exaggerated,

Pulled and malleable, extending over the most

Obscure reasons and situations.

The most difficult, is those in which I am not

Who I appear to be. My body remains the same

Shell, though a dark cast is set over my eyes,

Searching for something to ground me, to stop

The dissociation, make me know who ‘me’ is again.

Dissociation tears like a knife dragging every

Demon in my body to the surface, like my brain is a control centre that has been hacked, I sit back

Hear the muffled voice – my voice? – speak words

Laced with venom, and spat out. Watch my hands

Ready to cause chaos, though, it’s too tiring to try

To stop. So I sit, watch the horror film that I star in

Wait for the climax, miss the credits and wake up

To pick up the pieces. Play the game over and over. A retro arcade game that I will never complete till it is broken. Though every time I have, I somehow end up fixed. Yet I’ll never know,

If it was me.

(A.T)

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