Those who Dance to the Music are
considered Insane by those who cannot Hear it.

But are we not all insane?
Are we not part of the same life of sound, music and death?
Are we not all behind the same wall?

We're all insane. It's just that not everyone knows it.
Which is why they're staring at me because I'm humming.

I'm sure everyone knows they're insane but refuse to admit it.
So they stare and judge.

Probably.
Of course, we're absolutely mental.
We're mad.
All the best people are.
But the really insane ones are those who think they're normal.

Yet they send us to mental institutions.

Because they honestly don't realize . . . we all have monsters.
We stopped running from the ones under our beds, when we realized
they were inside of us.
We're all monsters.
No avoiding it.

It is in my blood
I can feel its presence
When it’s on the verge
To emit a surge, every time my heart beats

An impulse,
Scurrying it’s way through the crevasses of my brain.
Tainting the walls of grey matter with a tendency for unpredictability,
Out of my reach.

I hate it
I don’t want it
I never asked for this

I can’t slow my mind down
Thoughts so fast, hit me with whiplash
It’s insanity.

No.

I’m not insane
I can’t be
I’m rationale

I think about how I think about things,
Like it’s a cycle that never stops..

Which I guess could be my downfall
My vision says it all
When thoughts travel my mind
In dark tunnels at times
My eyes blind to the surroundings

Tunnel vision that make you claustrophobic;
You feel trapped
When all you see at the end of the tunnel,
Is the darkness of insanity

But..
I’m rationale

I acknowledge I have a tendency to be blind to my surroundings,
How can I be blind if I can clearly see?
Is life objective or subjective?
I just want to understand--

You're stupid —
What was that?
Felt like a surge, on the attack
An impulse

That voice
That’s it.

Unpredictability

That lies,
In my brain waiting to be brought to the surface
With the surge of an impulse.
It’s the insanity that taints me,
From seeing what really is

I’m not stupid, I’m a learner.

Granted with the gift of analysis,
But darkened by the cruel nature of impulse
To taint my minds innocence

I'm not scared to think about it anymore

I am insane, because it’s what you make of it.
Insanity grants me with the gift of perspective,
Throwing a million different ones my way
Ones that are positive and ones that are new
Traveling at hundreds of miles
And this even includes

All the negative perspectives as well

At the times when I don’t want to hear them.

Insanity must be embraced and never repressed.
Repression tells you no don’t do that, it’s wrong.
When insanity isn’t embraced, it is feared.
When something that’s inevitable is feared
You’re no longer insane,

**You’ve completely lost it.

I look in the mirror
And all I see now are
Black holes threatening to
Swallow my red-rimmed eyes.

I never moved with grace
But my body tremors
More than it ever did,
Thinking of unseen fears.

I reach with my fingers
Towards my old reflection
To discover the tips
Are now cracked and bleeding.

Hollow shell, hollow shell.
I am losing myself.
Every step that I take
Destroys my sanity.

As humans we aren't meant to comprehend truth, because of it i'm drowning

There is a boat i won't grab onto, for the boat is only for believers

The people try to pull me in, but i won't adjust so i'm only pulling them down with me

I pulled 2 people down with me, now they're gone. I'm still drowning ...

The boat doesn't even matter anymore, I drift under the sea blanket of insanity.

I'm broken down for no apparent reason,
Its almost as if I've been accused of treason.
I love this kid with the brightest smile.
I swear it seems to go on for miles.
No one understands what I feel,
What I think.
My mind is everything but the kitchen sink.
All that matters is him,
Right there.
Taking in his somehow warm, blue stare.
Sometimes I wonder if he is worth the pain,
But then I remember with pain there is gain.
I look at him, and I realize
that I am in love,
And it's the greatest surprise.

I have never been good at talking.
I spend my words frugally,
As if they are limited—
As if they conform to some currency—
To hide behind the dam that holds back
The river waiting to burst through my mind
Out into my eyes.
But I hold back.
It seems that no matter where I hide my heart
Someone ends up finding it—
Pointing a finger
To assign guilt,
And don't get me wrong,
For, I am guilty.
But I hold back.
Waiting—
Waiting for my time alone
To let my dam unfold,
To let the scars free
From my soul.
Not many understand
What it feels to genuinely hate
Your own being
In the essence of your stone cold
Broken heart—
But even still, I bottle up,
And hold back
Wishing away the hope of another “fresh start.”
Even as still,
However, as I sit waiting—
The dam doesn't break apart;
It just sits and waits—
Waits to hit me hardest
When I can't take the punches,
When I lose my balance,
When there is none other than one escape—
If you could even call death an escape.