“That thing is deranged” “How ugly!” “Put it out of its misery already!” Anya hugged the cat. It may have been old, and missing several patches of fur but the animal was harmless.It protected itself from the nosey child but people saw that as a vicious attack, not one of self- defense. A tear escaped her eye as she thought of the cat being out to sleep, “I can’t.” She whispered into it’s fur.
horrible, mutated, filthy covered in chocolate honey with bits of marshmallow covering it. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM TASTES SO DISGUSTING, DOESN’T IT R.
Gerald Jankins
The walls around her was stark white.Like an empty mind.Like a sombre wedding dress. She looked around….nothing.Not even a sound.Not even the hum of her own breath. The silence was deafening. It drove her mad.she was forced to be her own company.She hated her own companionship. Shhhh…. a dog whined. shhhh…her daughter was crying. ‘she must be hungry!I haven’t cooked anything!!! ‘ her husband would be home soon. she had to clean herself up before that. she had to be ‘proper’. just how he liked it.
She opened her eyes. big bite marks on her hand.blood gushing out of her wrists. she felt pain but it didn’t hurt. she repulsed the blood but also felt a sense of calm and a feeling of warmth when it flowed out of her hands.
The warden came rushing in. Had this woman not hurt herself again, the warden would be on her way home,to her children.While helping her least favourite patient up, she mumbled ‘deranged bitch…’
Aren’t we all just a little bit deranged? In some way or another. There’s that twitch in our stare and how we obsessively post and stalk. The internet…
crazy. scary. unhinged. people moved to the other side of the street. they sensed the trouble he might cause just by his mere presence – even yards away. it most likely was the way he walked, though there were many other signs….
You would’ve thought she was deranged, the way she threw herself across the room. This is what I get for babysitting a 3 year old. Ugh. I thought to myself. The shrilling sound of a her vocal cords vibrating was the closest thing I got to drinking.
the deranged man walked thorough the city,
enduring the scourning looks of other people.
He continued to walk through the city,
mumbling to himself by saying that they are the crazy ones.
I’ve been called a lot of things.
Insane, crazy, raving, a lunatic.
But not of them fit quite as nicely as “deranged”
Maybe because it meant that I used to be normal.
That I wasn’t always like this.
That something happened to make me this way.
That YOU happened to make me this way.
The deranged man broke out of the prison earlier that morning and ran the street creeping people out. He chased after children and ate trash in the dumpster.
Wesley martinez
She was deranged, completely taken over by her hate for the little girl who sat so sullenly on the rickety, wooden chair.Uncontrollably she raged around the room, pushing lamps and throwing books in a desperate attempt to make a point.The girl ignored her, disgusted that her mother was acting like a toddler who had been denied a lollypop.
Ellie
my mother when she begs us to love her
when she says please just tell me you love me
and i walk out into the night and the moon looks like a deranged smile
i can’t escape
not even into the heavens.
gertrude
stupid crazy all over the place ridiculous demented people walking around like zombies. disarranged, unarranged whatever these words mean. distant and apart from the real world, not making any sense whatsoever. its stupid to think that people like this don’t exist.
Jackie
It felt like the drugs were hitting me hard, the images in front of me were getting fuzzier by the minute. i couldn’t see my boyfriends face who was lying next to me, the needle still pined in my arm, the warm and cold rushes in my face. i was Deranged and i didn’t know this feeling was great.
I had no idea i was going to be here, i felt surprised, unhelpful, shocked, emotionless, tired, weak, shocked, adrenalin. but in all i felt deranged at the look of my boyfriends face as the knife was in his stomach.
Anna
He was a deranged man. One that someone must be careful when expressing anything to. He seemed quite and reserved, and a bit charming, yet something was always off. Yes, he was a deranged man, and I loved him more than one could imagine.
Mary Mierzejewski
no
The genius of words
I am deranged. I rearranged my things into no particular order. A range of things came to mind. The arranged and the deranged. The deranged have the whole range of emotions.
I wasn’t sure what to think of him. He was absolutely nuts, wasn’t he? I couldn’t escape him any longer. Curled up in the corner of the closet, hidden carefully behind the clothes, arranged so that it would seem it was untouched. Oh, but darnit, you could still see my feet. I could only hope that would go unnoticed, I hear his deranged laughter from the end of the hall, and it sent chills down my spine. I swallowed the lump in my throat, rubbing clammy hands together, trying my best to calm myself down. It’ll be okay, he won’t find me here.
peeks
The step was deranged, uneven. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. One knee hit the ground every time he stepped and that was because he was missing his left leg from the knee down. His ankle dragged against the ground, broken. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it was the way that he snarled, screeching. Was it really snarling? It sounded like Ring Around the Rosie… and his eyes wouldn’t come leave me, saying they’d eat me.
I pulled my head in halves, when it came to the reflection in you —
when I see you now, it’s like you have been clouded;
shrouded and shaded,
and a little bit jaded…
but most of all,
you feel like a dream I’m glad I woke up from.
It looks as if everything has fallen down from the sky. Clocks were broken on the floor, shattered in pieces — a piano, the one my mother used to play was I was young, laid there too. The strings were frayed across the pavement like a web, and shards of wood splintered thrown carelessly about. It was all broken before me and someone had to pick it all up. The keys looked up at me, the whites and blacks of their eyes shone against the sun and I began to feel this sickness again. The same sickness in that hour when all the chords strike at once and you hear the reverb howl in between your ears. And the keys take me over, the whites and blacks become my skin. I am something familiar, yet terrifying–reeking again. As I claw down a driveway, the street lights vanish into the darkness, I go.
Fuck you and your goddamn child. I never wanted you in this house. Whores and beggars and drunks and meth addicts, yes, but you, you can’t even find a god damn watch to save your life. What time is it? What time is it Lydia? That’s what I thought, you cod boiling disgusting wench.
“you’re too young to give up; dreams should be immense!
but don’t be naive, you’re too old, have some sense.
running out of time – no, you’ve got your whole life.”
wisdom and youth, my internal strife.
Deranged? Sometimes i think i am. I have this amazing ability to sabotage myself at every great leap forward that i take. Either socially, or academically, or both. What is wrong with me? Why do i put myself in to a situation where i can never see the other end.
The day after the event she fell off the wagon. Drank a 5th of vodka to herself. Out of her mind she fell in to a stupor, only to wake up in one worse then the night before. I fucking hate myself.
“Don’t be bashful,” He said finally, looking down at her. “Tell me what you think of me, Jane. Don’t hold anything back.” That idiotic smirk touched his lips and somehow, even though she wasn’t looking him in the eye, she knew he was gazing into her soul, trying to read her thoughts.
“Everyone thinks that you’re some deranged monster,” She began, lifting her head to meet his gaze and hating that her insides felt queasy. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued. “Who doesn’t have a heart and doesn’t care about anyone. But you’re not, and…”
“Spare the sappy introduction, Foster, I know what you’re up to.” His hand brushed against her cheek, putting a few strands behind her ear and she trembled, although she made no move to stop him. “You despise me. Just like everyone else.”
“No, I don’t.” She replied forcefully, gritting her teeth. “I care about you.” As his hand started to fall, she grabbed it and put it back on her cheek, holding it there. “Maybe more than I should.”
Ana's Bananas
She bolted out of the department store with a twisted, deranged look on her face, like a catholic mother who had just been told her dearest son was gay, and she was going mad from the revelation. Dozens of onlookers glanced on in her frenzied wake, bewildered.
Nicholas
Deranged is knowing which memories to erase first. That or hanging your thoughts on a music note. Unraveling it backwards. 4/4 at an up tempo, 6/8 in a down tempo, puck and strum and vibrato. Fifft. The memories are gone now. Just like that. Overwritten is overwrote.
I am deranged
Estranged
Fully loaded
A ghost with the ability to rip
You heart is nothing
It will not save you
Not when the deranged girl
The can’t be saved girl
Gets to it
Because I will eat it while it’s
Still beating
Beating up what you have given me
I am deranged
I am
The man approach, wild eyed, with somewhat of a limp in his powerful gait. His incarnate wreaked of marijuana smoke, with a tinge of quixotic adventure and the musk only attained through antiquated ways of travel. Some would say he is deranged… traveling from city to city on foot, despite instant teleportation being the norm.
ArtfulAtaraxia
they were done.
banging on the rails all day and night.
we’ll unite this land, they said.
cigars loosely dangle,
ashes of thin bodies trickle down.
good thing the carpet is dark.
clank clank, until the sun rises on
a new graveyard,
shiny gray steel.
Are stupid or deranged? That’s what she said
Here I am sitting on her bed
the last thing she cried was something so evil and then she died
here I am unable to care
but to say that aloud?
I wouldnt dare
Anika
I can fee the rage pouring through me like a tumultuous river, threatening to sweep away all other aspects of me until there is nothing left but the anger. Is this what madness feels like? Is this what it means to lose all reason, to be so blinded by emotion you feel, see, want nothing else? I feel myself losing my grip upon reality as the river surges. I am lost.
Yup. I’d like to think that I am not deranged however, what other term could be quite so perfect, as to describe the current non single state of the 2014 woman’s behavior.
The hair hung limply, framing her face. She smiled, showing her teeth in a wide grin. Eyes widening, facial muscles tensing, she leaned forward, her breath hot on his face. “I love you so, so much, I could EAT you,” she whispered, gleefully.
the deranged man kept stumbling towards me. or was i the one stumbling? he kept asking who i was and why i wouldn’t remember my own daughter. or was it me who said that?
He went deranged after the experiment. The scientist never expected the consequences of the subject speaking to god.
“That thing is deranged” “How ugly!” “Put it out of its misery already!” Anya hugged the cat. It may have been old, and missing several patches of fur but the animal was harmless.It protected itself from the nosey child but people saw that as a vicious attack, not one of self- defense. A tear escaped her eye as she thought of the cat being out to sleep, “I can’t.” She whispered into it’s fur.
horrible, mutated, filthy covered in chocolate honey with bits of marshmallow covering it. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM TASTES SO DISGUSTING, DOESN’T IT R.
The walls around her was stark white.Like an empty mind.Like a sombre wedding dress. She looked around….nothing.Not even a sound.Not even the hum of her own breath. The silence was deafening. It drove her mad.she was forced to be her own company.She hated her own companionship. Shhhh…. a dog whined. shhhh…her daughter was crying. ‘she must be hungry!I haven’t cooked anything!!! ‘ her husband would be home soon. she had to clean herself up before that. she had to be ‘proper’. just how he liked it.
She opened her eyes. big bite marks on her hand.blood gushing out of her wrists. she felt pain but it didn’t hurt. she repulsed the blood but also felt a sense of calm and a feeling of warmth when it flowed out of her hands.
The warden came rushing in. Had this woman not hurt herself again, the warden would be on her way home,to her children.While helping her least favourite patient up, she mumbled ‘deranged bitch…’
Aren’t we all just a little bit deranged? In some way or another. There’s that twitch in our stare and how we obsessively post and stalk. The internet…
crazy. scary. unhinged. people moved to the other side of the street. they sensed the trouble he might cause just by his mere presence – even yards away. it most likely was the way he walked, though there were many other signs….
You would’ve thought she was deranged, the way she threw herself across the room. This is what I get for babysitting a 3 year old. Ugh. I thought to myself. The shrilling sound of a her vocal cords vibrating was the closest thing I got to drinking.
the deranged man walked thorough the city,
enduring the scourning looks of other people.
He continued to walk through the city,
mumbling to himself by saying that they are the crazy ones.
I’ve been called a lot of things.
Insane, crazy, raving, a lunatic.
But not of them fit quite as nicely as “deranged”
Maybe because it meant that I used to be normal.
That I wasn’t always like this.
That something happened to make me this way.
That YOU happened to make me this way.
The deranged man broke out of the prison earlier that morning and ran the street creeping people out. He chased after children and ate trash in the dumpster.
She was deranged, completely taken over by her hate for the little girl who sat so sullenly on the rickety, wooden chair.Uncontrollably she raged around the room, pushing lamps and throwing books in a desperate attempt to make a point.The girl ignored her, disgusted that her mother was acting like a toddler who had been denied a lollypop.
my mother when she begs us to love her
when she says please just tell me you love me
and i walk out into the night and the moon looks like a deranged smile
i can’t escape
not even into the heavens.
stupid crazy all over the place ridiculous demented people walking around like zombies. disarranged, unarranged whatever these words mean. distant and apart from the real world, not making any sense whatsoever. its stupid to think that people like this don’t exist.
It felt like the drugs were hitting me hard, the images in front of me were getting fuzzier by the minute. i couldn’t see my boyfriends face who was lying next to me, the needle still pined in my arm, the warm and cold rushes in my face. i was Deranged and i didn’t know this feeling was great.
I had no idea i was going to be here, i felt surprised, unhelpful, shocked, emotionless, tired, weak, shocked, adrenalin. but in all i felt deranged at the look of my boyfriends face as the knife was in his stomach.
He was a deranged man. One that someone must be careful when expressing anything to. He seemed quite and reserved, and a bit charming, yet something was always off. Yes, he was a deranged man, and I loved him more than one could imagine.
no
I am deranged. I rearranged my things into no particular order. A range of things came to mind. The arranged and the deranged. The deranged have the whole range of emotions.
I wasn’t sure what to think of him. He was absolutely nuts, wasn’t he? I couldn’t escape him any longer. Curled up in the corner of the closet, hidden carefully behind the clothes, arranged so that it would seem it was untouched. Oh, but darnit, you could still see my feet. I could only hope that would go unnoticed, I hear his deranged laughter from the end of the hall, and it sent chills down my spine. I swallowed the lump in my throat, rubbing clammy hands together, trying my best to calm myself down. It’ll be okay, he won’t find me here.
The step was deranged, uneven. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. One knee hit the ground every time he stepped and that was because he was missing his left leg from the knee down. His ankle dragged against the ground, broken. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it was the way that he snarled, screeching. Was it really snarling? It sounded like Ring Around the Rosie… and his eyes wouldn’t come leave me, saying they’d eat me.
I pulled my head in halves, when it came to the reflection in you —
when I see you now, it’s like you have been clouded;
shrouded and shaded,
and a little bit jaded…
but most of all,
you feel like a dream I’m glad I woke up from.
MY ENTRY IS THE MOST DERANGED OF ALL. FUCK ALL OF YOU.
It looks as if everything has fallen down from the sky. Clocks were broken on the floor, shattered in pieces — a piano, the one my mother used to play was I was young, laid there too. The strings were frayed across the pavement like a web, and shards of wood splintered thrown carelessly about. It was all broken before me and someone had to pick it all up. The keys looked up at me, the whites and blacks of their eyes shone against the sun and I began to feel this sickness again. The same sickness in that hour when all the chords strike at once and you hear the reverb howl in between your ears. And the keys take me over, the whites and blacks become my skin. I am something familiar, yet terrifying–reeking again. As I claw down a driveway, the street lights vanish into the darkness, I go.
Fuck you and your goddamn child. I never wanted you in this house. Whores and beggars and drunks and meth addicts, yes, but you, you can’t even find a god damn watch to save your life. What time is it? What time is it Lydia? That’s what I thought, you cod boiling disgusting wench.
“you’re too young to give up; dreams should be immense!
but don’t be naive, you’re too old, have some sense.
running out of time – no, you’ve got your whole life.”
wisdom and youth, my internal strife.
Deranged? Sometimes i think i am. I have this amazing ability to sabotage myself at every great leap forward that i take. Either socially, or academically, or both. What is wrong with me? Why do i put myself in to a situation where i can never see the other end.
The day after the event she fell off the wagon. Drank a 5th of vodka to herself. Out of her mind she fell in to a stupor, only to wake up in one worse then the night before. I fucking hate myself.
“Don’t be bashful,” He said finally, looking down at her. “Tell me what you think of me, Jane. Don’t hold anything back.” That idiotic smirk touched his lips and somehow, even though she wasn’t looking him in the eye, she knew he was gazing into her soul, trying to read her thoughts.
“Everyone thinks that you’re some deranged monster,” She began, lifting her head to meet his gaze and hating that her insides felt queasy. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued. “Who doesn’t have a heart and doesn’t care about anyone. But you’re not, and…”
“Spare the sappy introduction, Foster, I know what you’re up to.” His hand brushed against her cheek, putting a few strands behind her ear and she trembled, although she made no move to stop him. “You despise me. Just like everyone else.”
“No, I don’t.” She replied forcefully, gritting her teeth. “I care about you.” As his hand started to fall, she grabbed it and put it back on her cheek, holding it there. “Maybe more than I should.”
She bolted out of the department store with a twisted, deranged look on her face, like a catholic mother who had just been told her dearest son was gay, and she was going mad from the revelation. Dozens of onlookers glanced on in her frenzied wake, bewildered.
Deranged is knowing which memories to erase first. That or hanging your thoughts on a music note. Unraveling it backwards. 4/4 at an up tempo, 6/8 in a down tempo, puck and strum and vibrato. Fifft. The memories are gone now. Just like that. Overwritten is overwrote.
I am deranged
Estranged
Fully loaded
A ghost with the ability to rip
You heart is nothing
It will not save you
Not when the deranged girl
The can’t be saved girl
Gets to it
Because I will eat it while it’s
Still beating
Beating up what you have given me
I am deranged
I am
fighting every impulse
a battle of mind against body
it is an apparent failure before even really beginning
insanity forever
The man approach, wild eyed, with somewhat of a limp in his powerful gait. His incarnate wreaked of marijuana smoke, with a tinge of quixotic adventure and the musk only attained through antiquated ways of travel. Some would say he is deranged… traveling from city to city on foot, despite instant teleportation being the norm.
they were done.
banging on the rails all day and night.
we’ll unite this land, they said.
cigars loosely dangle,
ashes of thin bodies trickle down.
good thing the carpet is dark.
clank clank, until the sun rises on
a new graveyard,
shiny gray steel.
Are stupid or deranged? That’s what she said
Here I am sitting on her bed
the last thing she cried was something so evil and then she died
here I am unable to care
but to say that aloud?
I wouldnt dare
I can fee the rage pouring through me like a tumultuous river, threatening to sweep away all other aspects of me until there is nothing left but the anger. Is this what madness feels like? Is this what it means to lose all reason, to be so blinded by emotion you feel, see, want nothing else? I feel myself losing my grip upon reality as the river surges. I am lost.
Yup. I’d like to think that I am not deranged however, what other term could be quite so perfect, as to describe the current non single state of the 2014 woman’s behavior.
The hair hung limply, framing her face. She smiled, showing her teeth in a wide grin. Eyes widening, facial muscles tensing, she leaned forward, her breath hot on his face. “I love you so, so much, I could EAT you,” she whispered, gleefully.
Tufts of fur stuck out from its face on all sides.
“Look, it’s foaming at the mouth,” said Stuart.
“I think it’s rabid.”
They backed away onto the porch.
The dog–or was it a wolf?–slithered on down the street, making strange terrible noises and dribble onto the pavement.
the deranged man kept stumbling towards me. or was i the one stumbling? he kept asking who i was and why i wouldn’t remember my own daughter. or was it me who said that?