If there was one word
that I could use
to describe myself to you,
it would be
UNSTABLE.
This does not mean UNABLE.
It just means that I live my life
like a run-away fable,
a story that
may or may not
be untrue.
A lesson handed down
to you
on one leg
instead of two.
Because BALANCE
is overrated.
And I will not be sedated.
I will just keep stumbling
by and by
until I reach
the unfixed sky.
Looking up
at six-feet-under
from my own
Personal Hell,
I hope my hedonistic heart
will stop beating as well.
You say life is beautiful.
So why won’t you live it?
Why do you hide in your room?
I’m afraid to find
that the greatest treasure
is also
the greatest doom.
Colors die in sunset rays.
Night is bled into the day.
White light sheds a silver moon.
Darkness never comes too soon.
Synapses
overstimulated.
Neurons
no longer firing
but on fire.
Heart and mind
racing.
Only one
can win.
Can’t catch my breath.
Can’t catch my thought.
And even if I did
my hands are too shaky
to get a grip.
Insight?
Insanity?
Who said there was a difference?
Here
strength breaks down
and pride caves in
and everything gets lost within
a swirling cloud
of sour smoke.
This whole fucking world’s a joke.
And as I flash my
force-fed smile,
choking on acid all the while,
I feel my lungs
threaten to burst.
Every breath
becomes my worst.
And every thought
eats at my core.
This whole fucking world’s a whore.
Take what you will
with what you must
and cover
decency with lust,
so no one knows
what’s really there.
And no one really fucking cares.
There is a strange beauty
in my world of chaos.
And I have grown to realize
that I would not want it
any
other
way.
This is why I stray
from all
safe
hypocritical
havens
and bask in the glory of
dangerous
uncertain
truths.
My madness
is apparent
in the tears I cry.
Your madness
is hidden
in the words you lie.
I am translucent.
This makes me vulnerable
to those who wish ill
upon my insides.
But I can turn light
into a million different hues
as the particles diffuse
through the membrane of my skin
and create
Pablo Picassos
within.
Sometimes the colors swirl
into a sorrow so blue
I wish I never let the light in at all.
Other times
red and yellow
burn such passion onto my soul
that I think I’ve finally found—
The Answer.
I finally know!
But then the grays
cloud over my thoughts
saying
black and white
do not exist.
And I am happy
that light tortures me like this.
Patterns and Habits
turn this house
into a hell.
Any place I know
too well
becomes the place
My Demons Dwell.
Reminders of a
c h i l d h o o d s e l f
whose safety-net
was burning coals.
The only comfort
that she knows
is a hatred of
HER SELF.
Back against the wall.
Shoulders bearing heavy weight.
I prayed to bend
instead of break
but I guess my spirit was not so malleable.
And so break I did,
into a hundred thousand splendid pieces.
Some shiny.
Some shabby.
Some sparked into a fire
activating Fight or Flight!
in my central nervous system.
Except not—
for all my senses were dulled.
Major Depressive Disorder
plus
Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors
equeals
Delayed and Inappropriate Response to Stressors.
So I just watched
as the pieces of my soul ignited
and spread like wildfire at my feet.
I welcomed the warmth.
And then the burn
as the blaze engulfed my gutless limbs.
I am convinced
I would have watched myself incinerate
without ever batting an eyelash
toward the flames.
Had it not been for
the wandering wind that called my name.
A silent whisper
across ethereal space
blew out the entire conflagration
and dropped me
in my place.
Repetitive.
Trance.
Music.
Predictable shapes.
Falling.
Fitting.
Instant gratification.
Justification
of hasty
decisions.
Visions emblazoned
on memory
overdrive.
Hypnotize—
paralyze—
aching psyche.
Numbness
equals
no pain.
Fingers clicking
ticking
time
away.
Brainless.
Mindless.
Wasteland Fortress.
Soulless Savior.
Tetris games.
