Cantankerous, walloping headache from hell, comes driven on words sweeping born from the fell. If now is the darkness that blocks out the curs, then drive, devil, drive to blot our their slurs. With skull thrashing and blood pumping so loud, it’s hard to think with the internal noise like a crowd- mocking, bantering, shuttling words, as feet shuffle and wisdom flies off with the birds. Never knowing from whence it was born, scratching echoes from those blissful days we all yearn. Pandering blasphemous gasps for sweet air come at last, now that the sound stops and you care for what has come, gone, and now passed.
Interpersonal dynamics with a radon bomb baby. Burning it straight down to the ground, scream at me like this whole one sided diatribe has become nothing but a song. I hate that our hands touched with venom grasped tight in fists. Cruelty measured in blood ,bruises and spit. Sex without the pleasure and no one ever comes. Where are the guidelines for this shit? I’m no masterpiece and my words sometimes seek wound instead of ears. Verbal lacerations that excite the darkness in both of us until the monster’s out and there’s no going back. Channel that stunner of a mother fucker, find ourselves in prisons far more concrete than the inside of our skulls and with far less forgiving guards. Wasting away, lost to hope and life forever…why? What was gained? I don’t ever dare to ask the other question…what was lost?
Tremble, baby, tremble, come gnattering at my door, the last I heard the story told I found myself the whore. Through dancing devils and despair, where rainclouds covered black, we’ll smoke these cigarettes this eve talk only of the facts. While vapor mists exfoliate, come wrapping round my lungs, tell me, oh, my dearest one, from where do nightmares come? In that lingering silence, where faces seek to fade, electric will the tension sit, my question on display. Clever feelings will run loose till they gather heads of steam, together waiting for the rush to burst rip loose like Satan’s scream. Forever tick the seconds, into idly running dust, I know not why the torment, but darling, dearest, I just must. Sincerity is cleanliness, stops putrid stains from spread, but Botticelli had more words from his canvases so dead. Stoke the embers of your heart, go on, let the pyre burn, never is a long time from now and it currently is your turn.
Play often with the boundaries inside you head before they harden into labyrinthine walls. Doubt the truth of what you know dear one, for nothing is ever so simple as it may seem. When the philosopher writes such common tongue as “I think therefore I am,” dig deeper into understanding what is meant. Uncoil the beauty of knowledge shared and questions expanded. That uncomfortable pressure inside your brain is nothing more than the price of admission to a world of creative and well intended information, each and every bit, a treasure in its own way.
Once there was optimism to see silver laced clouds till the world shook on its axis and decidedly bowed. Psychosis (they say) is to go quite insane, lose touch with reality, but they never mention the pain. When all that is true breaks at the seams, life becomes survival, desperation and screams. Mistrusting your judgement since all you see is false, no more gut feelings to rely on, you’ve got to just halt. Buried beneath the weight of taunting monsters and more, the theories roll, there is no staunching it despite how you implore. Eventually, the doctor will finally take note, through terror laced tears you sought out help and hope. The medicine works! That’s great, saves the day, the 50lb weight gain, well at least you’re not in a grave. Time will return that the world is no longer asunder, blessed peace will come back, beautiful and quiet as thunder. There isn’t much that the mind cannot do, it a remarkable system when it runs smooth. So if you find yourself in that darkest of nights, keep hold of your love and never stop searching for light. Psychosis is agony, there’s no hiding it, vulnerability is the solution though surrendering seems amiss. Give trust to those that care about you, seeing through their eyes might keep you from the thorazine zoo. Recognize, none of us perfection incarnate, schizo or not we all have a life to live well and stories to make.