#dissociative poetry

[sapphoswhispers]

shattered

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gazing to the broken battlefield of memories, white poppy grows where my body once laid bleeding, each crimson stained petal gaining its own symphony,

I cannot get rid of this desolation, but when the violence awakens my own choir, I know that I am not alone.

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Written Timestamp: 2/4/25 - 5:30am

I have DID, and I wanted to make a poem that acknowledges and honors the sacrifices my system has made to keep me safe.

[dissociativecollective]

Grieving, grieving, constantly grieving. I mourn what could have been, what should have been, what will not be, what I cannot save.

[holdingcaulfields]

sometimes i'm not quite here.

sophocles/unknown/eva baltasar/clementine von radics/unknown/j.d. salinger/susan sontag

[judgmentbytheh0unds]

you. you made me out to be something special, your prized possession, your protégé, and i trusted you with the deepest parts in my mind.

you just left me like everybody else.

i’ll forever wait for you to return with my collar still intact, じま.

[despairdaisy]

disassociation during the night is so weird i’m like here but im not im in my bed but im somewhere else my brain is so foggy and my limbs are so heavy. im so hungry and it feels so good. am i finally losing it?

[oceansubconscious]

conversations with the self.

[alicelilwolf]

I wrote this poem to touch on what I experienced in my childhood and teen years that led to me developing and being diagnosed with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder)

Echoes of a Lost Childhood

Damn right I'm angry,

At the ghosts of my past,

I was too young to carry

Such burdens that last.

Children should laugh,

And dance in the sun,

But I bore the weight

Of what should've been shunned.

Don't tell me it shaped me,

I know that too well,

I could've been carefree,

Instead, I was compelled.

The protectors, they faltered,

Left me to fend,

Healing can't alter

The wounds that won't mend.

Damn right I'm angry,

For youth stolen away,

No amount of solace

Can bring back those days.

[carnage-cathedral]

wait for the green light.

[flowersandfashion]

I am not really there

Marya Hornbacher, Madness: A Bipolar Life /// Ramon Casas, Laziness, c1898-1900 /// Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar /// Edward Hopper, Morning Sun, 1952 /// Gail Honeyman, Elinor Oliphant is Completely Fine /// Reynier Llanes, The Poet, 2021 /// Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931–1934 /// Amy Dury, Glasgow Girl 2, 2019 /// Rebecca Ross, Divine Rivals /// Adrienne Gaha, Blue Uniform, 2016

[angria]

I think of all the eyes not meant to see me. When I was five I learnt how to leave my body. Now I seem to have a hard time staying. Sometimes, I get stuck in the hovering.

Stuck | Sarah DesRosiers-Legault

[loveelizabeths]

it is always dawn in his arms, Love Elizabeth S.

[feral-ballad]

Remi Kanazi, from Before the Next Bomb Drops: Rising Up from Brooklyn to Palestine; “Layover in Palestine”

[Text ID: “feeling like a tourist / outside of my own skin / passing, never present / wanting to touch everything / I came in contact with / in case my palms never / pressed down on / this earth again”]

[darkfrenchwitch]

something breaking

in the silence

holds me back

some- hazmat level

truths

my spine just isn't ready

to shoulder

i stay a busy seance

play tea with

my ghosts

but,

stillness is

a cruel kind of patient

waiting

for my feet

to touch the ground

[mmiiuuyu]

to float, inexplicably carved hollow, i am neither here nor there .

[shitty-proendo-blackout-posts]

(This post is a Pro Endo post, we posted it for the endos)

[eldritch-loverboy]

“On dysphoria, on attraction to men, on noticing the details that make them so alluring, and on the acute awareness that you lack these things.” by Raphael D.