Last night my head exploded.
No one was hurt but me.
No wonder no one will sleep with me.
Who keeps exploding my head?
They must know
How volatile are its contents.
Not much will set it off.
My head has always exploded at night,
Waking me up with a start--
Heart racing, sweating profusely, and
Surviving the blast.
Now it's exploding in the daytime
For no reason at all
Head mines tripped by accidental thoughts
With a perimeter of collateral damage.
I am palming the bulges of my stomach.
I am scraping the feeling off my forearms.
I am clawing at my clammy scarlet palms with uncut nails.
My head is dizzy, decayed, what's the harm.
I am ripping the plastic fat of my things.
I am peeling my cheeks till they're numb to tears.
I am pinching the skin that settles by my collarbones brink.
Somethings craving the spinning wheel's touch.
Sleeping beauty skin, sweating and pink.
Tell, my skin confines me far too much.
I am intangible, uncontrollable,
I am a psyche, a soul,
I am feelings that feel far too infinite-
And yet, how am I soft thick skin, far too firm, too whole?
How must a finite thing envelope my existence, a riot?!
I am my everything, and yet I stand on ten toes?
I am coursing blood and,
I am coursing thoughts without close.
Rather, make my fillings pocket-sized and planned.
My skin, horizonless.
My skin, dimpled earth.
My being deep in crisp cold soil.
Tremors sweep me,
Yet my skin is deep and tan and old.
Skin beneath the willow tree.
Skin on the bathroom floor.
Skin sunken from the sea.
I'll be skin, forever more.
it's a blissful universe,
one in which i don't exist
my intangibility gives me strength.
i find solace in the nihilism,
freedom in living fast,
i depend so heavily upon
my mental illness
to kill me before i turn thirty-three.
it's a mutual destruction,
my mind and i,
in a quest to see
which one of us
will die first.
an epic battle of the ages,
fought with sticks and stones,
reverted to a primitive age
of childhood insults.
here i can be a child,
where rebellion means
drawing on the walls
and making faces at the mirror,
or throwing a baseball
through an upstairs window
and dancing barefoot
on the shattered glass
won't be mad
because she'll be too worried
about my bleeding feet
and the stains on the carpet
about my mistake.
she'll drive me to the emergency room
and they'll tell her
because little kids
don't get locked up
for doing stupid shit.
as a child my misdeeds
a speck of dust in the maladies of youth.
i can lose myself in the delusion
and my parents will be assured
that it's just
coming out to play.
it is a blissful universe,
one where i don't exist.
i was forced
to grow up
and fill the role
that i'd been trying so hard
As a matter of Fact
It's not the matter
That smatter I'm
Scraping up off
of the big Box
It's not I,
Shit walked off
on Its own
And I know
I've tried before
Oh let me in
next of Sin,
Me from my Will
I'm scraping by!
crud that ain't mine
off from my shins.
I won't feel it.
of the revolving
is a sanitary
as I'm wheeled
Down the aisle,
& crackin' a
Mental Breakdown Challenge @Melpomene
BPD, depression, anxiety, confusion, society
we dirty ourselves before we can become
we bury ourselves in the ground before we become
crying alone in a room we wonder
nightmares clouding present thoughts
backward motion unsteady falling off cliffs
up toward the sky we look at the stars
sabotaged by our own knives
breaking through into
Feed the Kitty
Show me something
Cuz I've got nothing
Gotta feed the kitty
Feed the kitty
Exhausted the dragon
Traded my heart in
And it's dragging me down,
This searching around,
For anything I can chase
Gotta feed the kitty
Feed the kitty
Time's ticking away
Sometimes I just wanna be sane
Make it through one damn day
With a smile and some accomplishments
Gotta feed the kitty
Feed the kitty
Long Day of Dying
Can’t remember exactly when
Everything turned gray
And the shadows began sticking
To my sallow face
I don’t know what sorrow succeeded
In finally disfiguring me
Crippling my body under the weight
Of heavy rain
The landscape is bleak as bone
My backyard nothing but dark sky
Ghosts no longer linger here
Insects turn to dust
I quietly waste away in fear
From the silence that stalks this place
Tormenting me like a beast
Calling me by name
A cold child under black blankets
I pray under a godless roof
For someone to appear from nowhere
Out of thin air
But there’s no point in talking
To an empty room
So why don’t I just leave
Take my chances with infinity
For Me He Bled
Go ahead for the kill
Hit me with the stigma
That's been accompanied by havin' to take a pill
One that makes a man appear to be a bit of an enigma
With nothin' but his guts to spill
Due to the churches lack of kerygma
The demons in my mind seldom stay still
Even if I met a preacher with just the right Charisma
I'd still continue to be known as mentally ill
On my head demons have fed
I didn't listen to what was all said
The conversation was sick and red
Then I hit 'em with the power that can raise the dead
I let them see
it was for me
to be free
Jesus Christ bled
Dopamine & Serotonin
This, too, shall pass away.
“This” is not COVID. You and you are to blame for these constant (re)lapses.
This is why I don’t bother to take you seriously anymore
although benign, reminiscent brainwaves seemingly come and go once in a while.
I finally figured it out at the sub-atomic level.
the other irate
That was before.
an expanse of pure serenity,
who used to breathe peace and contentment,
who used to hold itself in the chains of stoicism,
who used to believe in the renditions of the universe,
why does it now crave an indomitable spirit?
it stayed back, it was uncertain.
in the subtle corner of insecurities,
it accepted its seclusion with quiet surrender.
it all commenced with a disastrous decision.
entropy, the degree of randomness of a system,
a system, myself. not so closed, but isolated.
i typically raised the temperature and checked,
the system was disrupted, on the contrary.
thought the burnt soul loves fire,
its flame diminished the former glow.
kinetics showed how time takes its toll on the system,
slowly interfering, rapidly damping.
how reserved i was, how hustled i am.
have faith, hell and heaven are not found in maps.
the creator created rooms,
the empty ones seem large
like the heart. several visitors arrive,
why should the system greet them all?
the crowd of dark thoughts and malice,
the noise of joys, you exhaust this system.
the idea of ‘it might be’ is secure for mere speculation.
the reality, maybe it does not exist, even if it does,
sometimes, the facts appear stranger than
the fantasies, i believed.
this system is disillusioned
with the hypocrisy of the world,
how easy it is to put an empty hand,
how easy to fabricate an estranged relationship,
how easy to peel a tangerine and
adore a sun, both of the same color.
all i needed was a rapprochement,
a healing touch, i wanted to be
clasped tight so that i would not break.
i was hoping against hope
to resuscitate a precious bond,
but it’s just regret that lingers
in the thick silence placed between our bodies.
i knew i was dying,
something in me said, “go ahead,
the abode of the spirits of the damned
are holding back their horses.”
something else in me also popped up,
“you need some interaction to cause the transition.”
they had made me a picture,
it took me my life to come out of the frame.
i choose to move ahead,
the vast expanse waits for me,
to elicit the undeniable passion within me.
my heavy heart seems lighter than our fantasy.
as if the asymptote just met its hyperbola.