Inexplicably Inevitable

1 – Seen you’ve survived.

So now let’s destroy your night.

Don’t be terrified.

I’m just here for a while.

But I’ll molest you deep from the inside.

Where you won’t be able to recognise.

That I…

Will rip you blind.

So you can carve fine.

Parallel lines.

Failed fight.

High like…

Never mind.

I’m fine.

2 – Sometimes a bubble wrap.

Is all you have.

When you’re getting smashed.

Just too FUCKING fat.

Get yourself trapped.

Kill yourself & never comeback.

Because you’re full of crap.

A monologue in total contact.

Tolerance bursts to act.
3 – Get away from me.

How can you love a freak?

Who is ought to destruct himself completely.

Isolation doesn’t feel lonely.

Sometimes it provides security.




When you succeed to hurt me.

Coping becomes nasty.

But I deserve it anyways, no need!

I’m dying already.

Get away from me.

Let me act in, toxically.

Sprinting those razors atrociously.

A wave of silence spreading softly.
Written By P.S. ‘PATIENT’ Stan.

The Quiet Borderline 

Why I’m always so silent. In pic (Kurt Cobain)

 1 – My body shakes.

My head aches. 

I’ve been raped. 

And I’m going to fail. 

Because mind maims. 

Bullied under shame. 

Severe self hate. 

Can’t raise. 

Voice against. 

Madness chased. 

Hidden blades.


2 – Fine. 

I’m alright. 

Just a lost fight.  

Blurred sight. 

Now it’s a constant drive. 

Ugly body, pathetic mind. 

Miserable life. 

Opiate eyes. 

Pain behind. 

Tears dry. 

Masked lie. 

But why? 

Anxious to die.

3 – You will be gone soon. 

And I will lock my cocoon. 

Where I will bleed my doom.

So don’t find me and get confused. 

Because suicide is now a loop.

It’s becoming my ultimate truth. 

And I just can’t choose. 

What exactly do I have to prove? 

I’ve failed everything, whatever I’ve been through. 

So don’t look. 

I am a burning book. 

Which will soon. 

Turn to ashes, erasing my proof. 

My existence is mute.

And please don’t look back. 

I’ve already planned my attack. 

I’m sitting with a gun in my hand.

So don’t look back. 

I’m already trapped. 

4 – A woman who tried. 

She took my mask of disguise. 

I painted a picture which she defined. 

Hate which made me defiled.

The misery I tried to hide. 

A disgusting smile. 

Saw my soul through my eyes.

Withering ride.

But I, 

Left her because I, deserve to die. 

The quiet borderline. 

About to pull the trigger…grip on the gun; tight.

The Quiet Borderline.

Who never shined.

Is now terrorised.

Afraid to stay alive.

The Quiet Borderline.

Alone in night.

Jumped down from a height.

The Quiet Borderline.

Written By ‘PATIENT’ Stan.

Meaning – I wrote this to describe quiet borderline personality. Which is quite psychotically more self destructive because a typical BPD sufferer would exhibit acting out, where as a a quiet one will act in. Inducing pain upon themselves. They get unnoticed and it’s sometimes too late for them. 

It’s story about a guy who is struggling from such inner turmoil that he thinks he doesn’t deserve anyone in his life. He gets frightened when people try to get too close to him. He just maintains his distance and avoids contact. He’s sensitive about his scars. But not comfortable in his skin as people keep reminding him to pull his sleeves down. Providing him successfull nostalgia of misery & shame. He feels things intensely and that’s why hate getting attached to someone because he knows it will be a rollercoaster of agonising pain. He’s suicidal and thinks he deserves to die.

EAT (Enemy At Therapy)

Enemy Within.

No options.

Failed verifications.

In conclusion.

No questions.

Purging actions.

Bleeding preparations.
Lines of meth.

Self destructive test.

A confined measurement.

Absurdity fed.

Addictive threat.

Kill the help.

Of rehab shed.

Insanity progress.

Happiness theft.

Misery left.

Nothing felt.

Loneliness dealt.

Blades become best friends.

Oo don’t care about yourself.

 I hate me and my existence.

Shame won’t tolerate my presence.

I want to kill myself.
I can’t ever be loved.

Because I am too much.

I self destruct.

Cut my hands to feel numb.

I was played around with my trust.

Mind fucked.

Bad luck?

Absolutely rust.

Rage burst.

Ripping deep for fun.

Dimensions spun.

Crave is a wave of lust.

And you must.

Get it done.
Just for once tell me.

How many?


Would it take get me relieved.

Insanity feeds.

Mental disease.

Confidence depletes.

A rush when weak.

Felt when stomach is totally empty.



In variety.

It’s totally foul.

Hateful doubts.

Kilos of cocaine, nose drowned.

Black out.

Falling down.

On the ground.

Bleeding skin and dehydrated mouth.

Written by P.S ‘PATIENT Stan’

Fear And Loathing

The mind kills people when depression is on a full time job.

Losing all.

Slowly deform.

It’s your job.

To erase your cause.

Aggression faught.

Precisely called.

Self harm born.

Destructive thoughts.

Can’t control.

Mind vindictiveness propose.

Drag the blade, it’s the cure.

Fading anger, pain pure.

Silenced shore.

Dripping more.

Blood on the floor.

Lose control.

Closed doors.

Failing pattern.

Relapsing flattens.

Total motivation.

Starving purification.

Perverse addictions,

Slaughtering medications.

Anaesthetic sensation.

Survival negation.

An unfortunate situation.

Craving the sensation.

Failed distractions.

Mind distortion.

Fear & loathing progression.

Futile life destruction.

Written by P.S ‘PATIENT Stan’

Filled With Fat

Perfect is illusion.

1 – Don’t you understand? 

What fills you is fat. 


Do what you can,  

Just overcome this expand.

With what you have.

Don’t you understand? 


What fills you is fat.


2 – Prepare the mice. 

It will all serve right. 

Until the price. 

Is what we get to describe. 

Too easily to get bribed. 

Too easily madness drives. 

Insane enough that multiples. 


3 – Ruining your skin. 

This fat just begins. 

To cover up your shit.

The void is from within.

That needs to be filled. 

Or else it will just stay there like filth. 

Until that, crazy bitch will wipe off my grin.

And will start to feed my mind & my free will.

Slowly she would make me ill. 

Silently she would sit still.

Till her time is at peak and I must be killed. 

On peripheries of numerous thrills.


4 – Sleepy, not able to concentrate. 

I still need to lose a few more of my weight. 

But now I’m unable to get my head straight. 

It’s always the blame game. 

Haunting me again & again. 

Nights filled with severe stomach pain. 

Still starving because there’s no other way. 

I still need to lose a few more of my weight. 

Now when I even face food my thoughts run insane. 

Punished by myself by dragging a blade. 

Just to end that shame. 

I turned open, depression’s gate.

And blades became my addiction that never could be explained. 


1 – Don’t you understand? 

What fills you is fat. 


Do what you can,  

Just overcome this expand.

With what you have.

Don’t you understand? 


What fills you is fat.

Written By P.S 









It’s late

I wanted to give my best friend my blade. 

I did not realise that I was too late. 

I was unknown of his own games. 

He smiled back and shined his blade on my face. 

I was dissapointed in myself and wanted myself to blame.

That’s how It all again started for me, once again.

I was clean for so long & now it is just worsening the case. 

I wished the best for you but not this way. 

Pain was my addiction and now it’s his escape. 

One of my hardest to explain. 

This is the reality I came back to where I trade. 

Temporary but certainly I feel my recovery is a waste. 

You’re a temporary customer today. 

But you will soon need it everyday. 

When hate will dissolve in with pain. 

I’m so sorry my friend, but I did not ever mean to see you in a similar state. 

But I know It’s too late. 


Written by P.S 

Mind Slave

I am a slave to my own vile mind.

Loss of mind control. Instead the mind controls.

1 – It was a pleasure living with you.

Lying is what all you made me do.

But now you’re inside of me.

Shouting loud so I could obey all your deeds.

Head full & plates empty.

Cussing friend nagging at me.

What all you can do to make me?

Shattered, broken & insane mentally.
2 – Eat up your loneliness for your only breakfast.

Spending the day in guilt for the meal you ate just.

Eat up your own bloody miseries.

Live upto the standards inside that’s yelling me to be.

Disordered lifestyle.

Scarce fights.

Relapsing again after saying I’m fine.

Motivation to recovery being denied.
3 – Torturous thoughts.

Piling up like a fucking storm.

Give up, give in or give it all.

Whatevers left & what’s all you’ve got.

Tears roll down in fucking silence.

Confused & afraid facing your own worst nightmares.

Help comes in many different ways.

Acceptance of help is itself a big challenge to take.

Even if you get better & maintain your healthy shape.

Chances to relapse always remain.

Which can make you to absolutely degrade.



Ripping up whatevers present inside.

You may call it a disease but it’s my life.

Lock & load.

Almost safe to secure.

There’s only one way this story could go.

Voices winning the battles you never ever chose for.

Controlling you between the spaces of your only hopes.

Written by P.S