paperwounds

soft chaos. ghost hands. paper skin. I write what I can't say outloud. poetry for the dissociated & haunted

[paperwounds]

Malfunction

Malfunction.

I have trouble containing the overloading thoughts.

Storage full. Error. Error.

A system without a process— I’m circuiting.

A closed album, songs repeating like a broken disc.

I wish I could shut down, but the power button is gone.

Running. I’m awake and running.

No rest. I fight for the silence.

In a world where people fight for freedom, I’m trapped in my own hell.

The words never reach my lips— a curse and blessing in one.

But if I could just slip…

Malfunction. Warning. Warning.

Reboot me. Erase the data. God, just hit beta.

I need an upgrade— I’m frying at the seams.

Error. code:enterdissociationmode

Dreams. It’s all just dreams.

I’m awake. Did somebody hear me?

Refreshed—silence.

Something’s about to break.

Stuck on a mode: do not disturb. Heading straight for something—

Stop. Stop. Curb!

Impact.

Wreckage. But I haven’t gone anywhere.

Stuck in my head— a ruin.

Can’t I stop this car if I’m driving?

Alone, I let them fall.

Tears.

Is it because of me? Do I draw them in?

Voices. Thoughts.

I thought I could escape this, but I can’t flee.

There’s no reboot for a broken machine.

Twisted, tangled in my own knots.

Unplug me.

Let me rest.

My thoughts float in a void, wrapped around me.

I can’t escape when I’m trapped from within.

Error. Error.

Shut down immediate.

I can’t operate if I refuse.

I’m shutting down.

Let me end this terror.

Error.

code:shutdownco—

(what happens when the thoughts overload the code? shutdown isn't always a choice. sometimes it's survival)

-do not repost :)

[paperwounds]

Can you see me?

My brain is sharp

and my head is a cardboard box. 

one loud thought—

and my skin tears like paper. 

delicate but strong, 

I’m a story pressed through walls. 

unheard,

forgotten. 

rising toward surface, 

I'm too light in these waters—

drifting,

drowning.

I breathe,

but it’s not air.

It’s words. 

I am flying when I should be swimming, 

am I lost,

or just misplaced in the tide?

thinking is destruction, 

but so is living. 

fire breathes,

and so do I. 

where’s the spark I begged to ignite?

burning. 

the temple I call my body is searing, 

hot. loud. 

how do you contain a hazard that feeds on its own heat? 

the more I add, the brighter it blazes. 

close my eyes—

and I’m higher,

further from the ground

and closer to the burn.

my brain is sharp,

and my head is a cardboard box. 

the visions choke me,

but I can’t see. 

replace these eyes,

this fragile shell that holds me. 

I am all reaction,

trapped in my surroundings. 

burning inside my own body, 

I wait in this endless lobby

for a door that never opens.

through writing,

through reading. 

I let the needles bleed from my mind. 

and when I close my eyes, 

it sinks in:

my brain will always cut

my shell will always tear.

I’m a glass box, 

you can peer inside—

but you’ll never catch the ghost I hide.

(i'm somewhere between here and not here. this came from that place. a glass box, can you see in?)

-do not repost

[paperwounds]

a small beginning :)

i don't talk much. not lout loud. but my hands, they spill.

i go by paper wounds. i write poetry for the dissociated. the haunted. the ones who hear whispers in empty rooms. the one who feel too much and say too little. the ones who carry sharp minds in soft bodies.

here you will find:

poems i've never said aloud

memories i'm not sure are real

internal storms, written quietly

grief, dissociation, fire, and silence

if any of this feels familiar, then maybe you're a little paper-wounded too.

welcome to the noise in my chest.

:) i'm glad you're here.

(paperwounds)