my soul is melting
burning away like a candle wick
crumbling like chalk

i read the words on a page
heart starting to race
"paranoia"

each person is evil
i tell myself
they have motives
that i don't know

the unconscious
leads my brain
driven by the id
about to break.

path forward
it leads me in circles
my head fighting my mind,
prone to panic eternally, internally
but not likened to rationality
switching, flipping
changing, eclectic
can I escape the push pull
of my push and pull Personality?
punching doorframes one minute
crying my eyes out the next
jumping off the ledge in the next 3.

I stare at the ceiling, seething, screaming
begging for an answer to the question
should I grow my wings
and stay forever seventeen?

falling apart in my bedroom
screaming at my head
skin sloughs off
on my back
fly up out the ceiling

they say
one in three diamonds
glow under ultra-violet light
maybe at some point
in my ultra-violet life
i will glow too.

turn me into text
perfect example of internal conflict
study me
for your exams
write an essay
"the author might be trying to say"
when you read my thoughts

i hope you pass
grade 9
tear apart my thoughts
analyse me

take creativity
brain matter,
find that somewhere
put it in the bowl

take bone
pain
sweat
blood and
tears
and place it in the bowl

take your hopes
and your dreams
and put them in the bowl

work towards nothing
your whole life wasted
take the hours you spent
put them in the bowl

sell your soul
if you have to
put the earnings
in the bowl

burn a library
a house
a puppet show
put the ashes in the bowl

blend until smooth, with water
or rough
or non-existent
or interdimensional

stare at your creation
and cry as it screams
begs
for it to end.
you're looking at yourself.

these aren't my hands
at least they don't feel like they are
I don't recognise my voice
or the name they call me
but I know it's mine

when I touch my leg
the hand feels like someone else's
I dig a hole into my arm
and I feel nothing

the world looks fake
flat, digital
incorrect reflections
correct imperfections
I try to fix it

we all talk
about the now
being in the know
knowing where to go
going where we already know

where is now?
geographically, not mentally.
where must i be
to be present
presenting the PowerPoint
my life on display
is it Jakarta? berlin?
baku, beijing or dublin?

how is now served to you?
any dietary requirements to be aware of?
hot or cold? or even, lukewarm?
is it customized to your liking?
or unaltered? half cooked?
medium rare?

do you tip the server
of your now dish?
or consume it
on your genetically altered past plate
with your fragile future fork
knowing when you're done
you'll pay the bare minimum?

when you purchase your now house
and live in it with your now wife
and now kids
with a cute now dog
will you wonder who lost their now
so you could have yours?