A Dying Man

A Dying Man

I am a dying man,

For I be dying fast.

Just us as all us being,

With every breath we take.

Yet here I stand here dying,

Everyday brings it closer.

The pain it changes me,

More determined to end my life.

The dying man be living,

But not for long at all.

And neither do I,

Have much time,

For plans be almost complete.

Then to complete the execution,

Of myself it be.

A dying man,

Does come to terms,

With his harsh cruel fate.

As have I,

And as should you,

So leave me be,

Meddle not in my affairs.

No intervention,

No waking up,

No humiliation within infirmaries.

Sensory Deprivation

Sensory Deprivation

I feel it all,

And none at all.

I see it all,

Yet see nothing.

I hear it all,

Yet little is ever heard.

The smell, I it all,

Yet smell nothing at all.

Like in a glass cage,

Of selective sensory deprivation.

To see the good things,

But feel only the bad.

To be ready to end it all,

Yet to fail at every attempt.

Sensory deprivation,

A cruel and dark beast,

One I cannot stop,

Unless I end it all.

Physical and Mental

Physical and Mental

I have a lust for blood,

That is all of my own.

For pain that hurts,

Just so much,

It blocks the mental out.

For blisters,

Big and bubbly,

That leave a lasting mark.

For cuts,

That will forever,

Leave a lasting scar.

For physical,

Be so much better,

Than the mental pain.

For at least I can do see it,

With the psychological,

 I cannot.

A visual comprehension,

That is what is physical.

A pain that is unseeable,

Psychological remains forever.

This is why I mark myself,

With scars and other things.

Using a razor,

A lighter,

Or anything nearby.

I try to cheat the mental,

Turn it into a physical form.

Or if all fails,

Just hurt so much I block the mental out.

So using physical pain,

I try to silence,

All the mental anguish.

And yet it rarely works,

But still I do it regardless.

I sit,

I cut,

I squeal,

I squirm,

Pulling that razor down.

The blood that then does follow,

Makes it all worth my while.

For at least with the blood,

It shows all that I’m hurting,

For far too often,

It never shows,

That I am really dying.

So what be the better,

Of the two pains.

Physical or mental?

Some would say that mental,

Must be the better one.

But I say neigh,

It is but physical,

That be the better beast.

For at least it is better understood,

And often more apparent.

For with test and drugs,

Physical can be found.

But mental be not that easy,

Or so it is we have found.

But whether one is better,

No one can truly say.

Yet all I know is that I am bleeding,

On the inside and the outside,

So physical and mental are equal and one.

Bored

Bored

I be bored,

Not of the sun, warmth or people,

Nor of pain, sadness or hurt.

But of all of this and more,

Of life itself and nothing else.

How is it to be bored of life,

Many indeed would ask?

Yet I ask the same question,

Every waking moment.

But still the answer does evade,

Yet I know I speak the truth.

I am bored,

Nothing more and nothing less.

With little less to do,

Sleep seems a good option.

When I have finally lost all interest,

I shall challenge the last unconquered frontier,

That being the unknown of death.

The Battle for control of Dion's mind

Ok, it may sound weird, creepy or strange, but I can actually see the two major factions of my mind going to war right now.
Some background information first.
I have suspected for a while that my mind is divided into various thought processes. Almost like a separate personality, but not in the extreme sense of the phrase.
Well, today I finally have the proof.
After a conversation with Ms Pearce where I said much more than I wanted, I quickly fell out of the sky, and 10 minutes later, I had a pair of scissors in my hand in biology, and was honestly considering plunging them into my chest. I very nearly did. Instead, I decided I would wait until I got home and then I would slash myself and hopefully meet a timely demise. Hence, reducing mess and trauma at school. I acknowledged that I was feeling very bad, and noticed I was counting down to my date later today.
Instead, my mood flipped in a very short time.
It actually felt different, and I noticed that whilst suicide still seemed half decent, I no longer felt I didn't have a choice, but felt that whilst my circumstances were not pleasant, I wanted to go to sleep, and death wasn't sleep.
Don't get me wrong, suicide and death even now still seem rather sweet, but my whole view on things was different. I was open to talking and to suggestions and was less negative and sensitive.
Hell, I was even certain that I had to tell all to Tom and the Shrink later this week. Now that is a massive change.
Clearly this was not just a mood change, but a part of my cognition that was rational.
Perhaps we all have a rational and irrational side of our cognition and thinking and that when we are healthy, the rational side tends to dominate.
But when we become unwell, in which the psyche is affected, the irrational side perhaps tend to dominate.
Whilst in myself, I think that may fit, I don't like that hypothesis, mainly because it indicates that in unwell people, ok-such as myself, intervention is almost certainly warranted, even when that person chooses to refuse it.
Perhaps that is why the Mental Health Act of 2009 is written as it is. Yes, I have read it all, and tend to think there are a number of flaws, and that it tends to increase stigmatisation of psychological illnesses. I might add, whilst parts are interesting for someone of my position, especially so I know my rights and what I have to hold my tongue on, much of it is a political bunch of crap that smell suspiciously of a someone who either is rather cold and is a medical doctor, or someone who is being directed by a doctor, but has written it themselves.
Well, thats how I see it anyway, and think that it parts, there is a high chance of the act being abused and thus it being utilised when it should not.
Meh, anyway, I can feel my two sides battling out right now in a battle to win.
I wonder if it will be stalemated or if one will arise triumphant. The negative, irrational side has been winning way too much, and the more it wins, the weaker I feel, and the stronger the chance that the war is lost.
Well, just a load of bullshit Ive waffled on about anyway, but my thoughts and observations anyway.

Can really feel my punishments from talking to the teacher today, absolutely killing me.
Haha, the joy of a few minutes enjoyment.
Blood, gallons of the stuff!

Better Doctor, Better Patient

Just some observations I've made on myself and a shrink.

Problems of the Shrink

• Treating patients like an idiot or that they are unlikely to verify said information.
• Threaten patient with undesirable or feared situations, especially when the state of their health is unknown.
• Provide false information to patient and by doing so, violating their medical rights.
• Creating an environment where there is a fear of the doctor if agreement is not reached.

Problems of the Patient

• Resisting help and logical and sound advice from professionals.
• Worsening said situations by withdrawing and keeping secrecy.
• Refusing to partake in activities that may improve situation.
• Acting against their own logic.
• Not acting when presented with dangerous situations due to a fear of temporary uncomfortable circumstances which may result in a more desirable outcome.
• Withdrawing from friends, family and others who care.
• Not actively seeking to improve situation, often worsening it.
• Creating fear and unrest amongst those around them
• Complaining about situation and not acting.
• Being riveted by fear to act constructively.
• Actively destroying the physical body.
• Inactively destroying the psyche.

Merely some observations

How is it possible to want to talk to someone, but when they finally do talk to you, even though you enjoy talking to them, and even though you wanna speak about your weekend, and about its trials, tribulations and excellencies, you dont and you zip it instead.
You shut off, and pretend everythings hunky dory, when in reality, your dying fast?
It doesnt make sense, and often it does more damage than sweet metal