Lend me you ears and hear me speak…

Click the link to hear this one. Please don’t be offended by the bad language. This one is a little vent at the lack of socalled “priveleges” One must endure under section in a mental health unit. Click the link and have a listen xx

Listen to Cease The Fucking Day… by noone adiaryfromnoone #np on #SoundCloud


Is it really appropriate to intimidate me?
To interrogate me?
I am being polite,
Trying to comply,
And somewhat realise,
That any help you may offer,
It will only work,
If I also help myself.
But when I say that your questions are to much,
Why do you pretend not to hear me?
On and on,
Beating out a response.
Like a tight knitted rope,
Doused in petrol,
Lit with fire.
You strike me with every question mark,
Repeatedly until you get some kind of answer!
The truth is…
This notion does not seem to satisfy you,
So seemingly with annoyance,
You keep disturbing my rest,
Which is baffling to me,
As ultimately the more interruptions,
The less I will be able to process.
Many a new faces,
From all sorts of departments and places,
Parade in and ask me the same old questions.
I respond,
But in all truth,
I have no recollection of what I have said.
Every time you ambush me,
Instead of pushing,
And recounts,
To the forefront of my head,
You push them back,
Deep down,
And I fear,
To the point of no return!
To you,
It is all about,
Text books,
Rules and regulations,
Case loads,
Just another name,
Another number to file,
All the while I am suffering,
And no one understands.
I don’t kick off,
Throw things around,
And dish out verbal abuse,
Because that is not my nature,
But believe me,
I feel it all inside.
It may look like I am content,
Taking it all in my stride,
But read between the lines,
Communicate on my level,
Make it known that you understand,
Because thus far,
You have only weighed me down,
And without assistance very soon,
I know that I am going to drown!

Ohhh what a night!

I can smell the smoke,
I know it wasn’t me,
The girl next door,
Most likely.
The lights are buzzing,
Fellow patients are fussing,
I hear the staff dismissing,
Like their problems are nothing,
More focussed on parading,
Invading the privacy of the quiet ones like me.
I’m itching and twitching,
The stress got me glitching,
For peace sake,
I am thinking of snitching.
When’s medication?
I need some Zopiclone for sedation,
And if I am honest,
Some laxatives for constipation.
It’s quiet for a moment,
Oh no…
Then the alarms start sounding off,
Next doors at it again,
I contemplate,
Then loudly annunciate,
It’s fucking number ten,
I know she’ll kick off
But my doors locked.
She’ll only forget,
Calm down and spark up again.
Thus lye’s the circle of this particular hellish night.
I rate the NHS,
But this new bloody smoking ban!?
I wish I could go private,
Some place abroad,
If only I could afford.
During all of this,
I’ve been to the clinic and back.
The medication kicks in,
Alas it has suddenly gone quiet,
As to why?
I’m fast asleep.