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Psychostasis Nov 2019
J.A.O.
My initials
Three letters, representing the sounds I've obediently responded to my entire life
But acron- I mean initials
Can sometimes stand for multiple things

Take mine for example
It can stand for my name
"Jam and Oranges"
"Jail and Outbreak"
See? My initials can mean a lot

But when you take context
Which defines an acronyms given meaning
You get the exact meaning behind each symbol

So let's look at the context
My family tends to be repetitive
They're unable to easily cope with most things
And get overwhelmed by emotions to the point
Where they stick them in bottles to brew and fester
Well, I do that too
Ive been trying to stop
But I still do it

They drink
I drink
They smoke
I smoke
They act with reckless abandon in any given situation
Dido
They don't respond well to confrontation
Yeah. Hi.
Swearing like a sailor?
Check.

So maybe my initials don't stand for my name
Im sure they once did
But as far as I can tell
It could just as correctly mean
"Just Another Ortiz"
Psychostasis Nov 2019
I've been thinking about you each day, maybe twice
And how disfigured your world views can get
And how I could help if I could go back with abilities to stop regrets

I'd tell you not to worry but I know that's a lost cause
Because back then you were trying to treat your feelings with rap gauze

I'd tell you love yourself because you're the only one that matters
Or maybe tell you how my brain works now, to see if you'd get sadder
I know the world was built on shakey grounds of lots of stress
But no one you know thinks like you son,
That was your genesis

I would tell you how you should see your dad
But back then if anyone bad talked the family you'd get mad
So maybe I can tell you why everyone is out to hurt you
Or why you'll try to make your life close the ******* curtain.

Maybe I can give you space to ****** grieve
Over your aunts, uncles and friends that had to leave
Maybe discourage your ambitions and untie the knot
I know life's a surplus of vacant parking lots
Where dreams, ambitions and desires start punching rocks
Until they're morphed into creatures you refuse to acknowledge
Until your final break down at the "Pittsburgh Rip off College"

Maybe I could tell you to feel your pain
Or lessen the impact of prescription drugs on that younger brain
Maybe even make you into who you're meant to be
But I fear that that answer maybe me

I'd tell you to talk to mom, and open up
Take up the vacant room she left you in that hut
I'd help you sleep at night with soulful lullabies
And put you to sleep with our own hurt pride

Maybe if I could bleed the effects of the pre-condition
You'd be intelligent and have some kind of ancient wisdom
Lessons that stuck from two worlds apart
But most of all, I'd tell you to take the sleeve from that bleeding heart
There's no wound to nurse once you break the silence
Because the only reason it still hurts is cuz you're keeping quiet

You'll grow up to be a manipulator
The kind of person you won't despise until much later
The kind of person that uses people for mental exercise
The person who isn't afraid to resort to lies.

Sometimes I wonder if it would even make a difference
Or if the timeline would adjust the route,
Like a downhill liquid.

I killed myself to make me view
That life is how I see it,
So now I look at you.
Psychostasis Nov 2019
421
Last year at this time, I was snuggled into your neck
Our breathing was in sync and you held me tighter than anyone I've ever met my entire life
It felt like our souls were in a dance among the stars we gazed at just minutes before.

I was also in four pieces
Clean cut, defined and precise
My psyche was a honed machine that operated at four different levels
Constantly working to see what information I could siphon
In order to better understand the world

Then the parts turned
Famished eyes seeing one another for the first time
And realizing how much information was there,
How much information was untouched

And they encircled one another
Ripping each other to shreds and slowly chewing and savoring
Each bite a bitter slap to the face with raw information from the universe itself
Painful
Heartbreaking
Addicting

Now I'm better (probably)
I don't know what parts ate what
Or what that will do to them
I don't even know how many are left

I just know what I experience daily
Each blessed moment of clarity
Each time my own synapses spits in my face
Each moment that I wonder who or what I am
Knowing the end will never come
Unless I ask it to nicely.

If only life hadn't taught me my ******* manners.
Psychostasis Nov 2019
When I let my mind wander it often dreams timelessly
Creating vast wastelands of impossible concepts and places that never existed
A junkyard of delirium and broken hearts

Lately it's been dreaming of the realistic and dark
Fantasies and a gravitation towards the fate of the spiteful

It always starts with tears, and screaming
I punch at the walls setting fire to my domain with each strike
Ripping chunks of aortic valves from my sleeves with the fury of a rabid wolf

Then once all has settled and I sit in my piles of ash
I sob
It isn't like the first time
There aren't any screams
Or the thudding of my bloodied and stained hands against drywall and wood
Or the thundering echoes of each heartbeat ripping apart my eardrums

There is only a soft
Drifting and muffled sobbing containing more pain than the mass graves of my ancestors

Then it stops

A grunt
A crash
A choke
A gasping and struggling sound escapes my throat
Despite the belt wrapped around it trying to pin each cry and plea to my neck

I float
Like an angel watching silently over the world encased in my tomb
And as the sun rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets
and rises and sets

Only the moon will know what atrocity I have committed
In defiling my soul and beliefs
And turn my back on hope once and for all
Psychostasis Oct 2019
Mom called.
She said something happened at your friends.
She said, the result of whatever cataclysm took place there, left you asleep.
You still haven't woken up.

Not fully.

You've moved your hand a couple of times, and your eyes but
They say you're still fighting your way out of it.

I know your mom died.
You're probably dreaming dreams of being with her now, dancing in your living room
On a warm summer night, without a care in the world.
I need you to know that it's okay to be tired.
I'm tired, too.
My eyes all yearn to shut and stay shut till my soul can rest.
Sleep as much as you'd like,
And rest.
But please, do wake up soon.
I don't want you to become enchanted by the world you're staying in
And end up becoming a permanent resident of the Dreamland destined for Lost souls.
Psychostasis Oct 2019
I love you.
No, loved.
It gets confusing, separating my old thoughts from my current ones
Especially when on the same conceptual topic such as love.
Or you.

I love you the same way one loves an abusive parent they've long separated from
I love you with a flinch at your touch
And an obedient and calm agreement at your word

I love you like I love the sharp side of the blade you carved me with
A painful, dulling sensation of my flesh exposing to air
And all the comforts of home ingrained gracefully into the handle you hold


I love you because of the things you've shown me I can do
I love you because I thought you left me with these cursed gifts of knowledge
But last night you returned
And reminded me of how things were

You entered my room, and set my nest ablaze to give yourself warmth
You screamed my name in the same tone and voice you had dozens of times before
You forced yourself into existence by forcing me to acknowledge you and your presence
Last night you returned and reminded me of how things were

Last night you reminded me
Waving your blade in the flames as though giving it a sip of love for good luck.

Last night you returned
You blessed my cursed name by speaking it into the smoking sacrifice you stole from me

Last night you returned
And I finally remembered the bitter taste of fear and love rolled into one
Just as one remembers the instinctual response to a near death experience
Or the lullaby of a sobbing mother frantically trying to get her young to sleep

Last night you returned
And I cried with tears of breathless silence because I did not want to stir your presence away nor keep it close
I cried with frozen tears of fear and terror
As you whispered your sweet nothings and filled my mind with hollow promises
Of a fantasy world
All the while dragging the blade across the top of my spine

I love you.
No, I did love you.
And now you've returned
And I fear our next meeting as one fears the loving fist of their abusive lover
And I as your claimed soul will have no choice
But to listen to you carefully
As you sing your song of my defiance as a mocking song aimed at my pride
And slice my skin to give yourself another jacket to protect from the cold
Psychostasis Oct 2019
In this garden,
This beautiful creation I've blessed with my wisdom and experience,
I see in dimensions no one else can.
My third eye gleams in the sunlight, glowing and glistening like a perfectly cut jade.

In the distance, I see my goal.
It breeches the soil and reaches for the sun's warm embrace,
Escaping the mortal coil without ever leaving its vessel.

I approach.
Through the travel, the soil beneath me turns to salt and cracks.
The bees turn to wisps of a time once forgotten,
The butterflies, ghosts of a forgotten era.
The sun and Moon become a single entity forever fused in a dance older than time itself.
The sky turns dark and bleeds attempting to warn me of the horrors protecting my ambitions.
My claim to my destiny becomes shaken.

I power forward, blinded only in the physical world.
And as I approach the apple hanging gracefully from the tree
The snake will whisper its temptations,
And God will scream and tear the heavens asunder, seeking my cursed flesh and blood.
And as I pluck my ambitions and wisdom, digesting it and the truth whole,
The corners of my stone eyes will crack,
My third eye will screech,
And I will watch as both God and the serpent battle over my intentions.

I am The Prophet.
My destiny is written by me and me alone,
And all those who take claim to my soul will be cut down by my power.

I am The Prophet.
Where my gifts and talents, ambitions and goals, and curses and vices originate
Is unknown
But these are answers that do not matter.

I will tame the serpentine prince.
I will take claim to the power your God once stole from me.
I will refuse the sun its moment to set, plunging myself in eternal sunset.
I will embrace the moon as my lover,
And I will not allow you, nor anyone, nor anything power.

I am The Prophet.
I will scan the horizon with my peripheral vision
And blind myself with the sun's direct effects
To strengthen the sight of my soul.
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