Where who I how
I am blue
my breathless face is blue
The afternoon is far to blue
I sit a thousand eons
in my purgatory of ignorance
mental illness is collective trauma.
Stand down, unseat my lofty notions.
Cultural superiority forget your place
embrace accountability for slights
I see but long to feel.
Torment my waking terrors.
Finger self inflicted wounds
peel the pain beneath the scabs
slice away my lids with razor blades
and lay ever awake, enlightened
yet clueless of the torchers flame
cast onto thatch erasing
an abode behind doors secrets
burning within. my pyromanic rage
scorched tale is left in rubble
scavenged from my soul of empty halls.
A building vacated where floors
lay one on top the other
I pretend to dance beneath
a glitter ball suspended in imagining.
feel the breath across the lobe
peeling me off of splattered
abstract strobe lit silhouette
a realisation not a relief.
I am blue
You are sick.
Yes you are come
let me help.