Welcome to Psychotics Anonymous.  State your name, and little about yourself:

My name is not important.

I have a problem.
I don’t tend to preoccupy myself with others’ problems.
See, I don’t care about my friends, loved ones, or myself as much as I should.
I mean, obviously, I realize that  I don’t care about these things, but my problem is that I don’t know the real reason why I don’t care about them. I know I have a problem, but I don’t know how to fix it. Think of it this way,  you know when you look at roadkill on the road, you might feel sorry for it, for about a second, then you blow it off and keep driving. Some people might kick it or laugh at it, if they walk  by. Well see, that’s how I feel about important people in my life , and at times, about myself.  I’m the one kicking that road **** while its down. Except the road ****….is my best friend. Do I mean what I do? I’m not entirely sure, but I do know that it’s wrong.  I know that I should care, I know that I’m a bad person for it, but I don’t know why I still do it anyway. I have a problem. My best friend is in the hospital and I’m sitting home writing this instead of visiting her while she’s 10 minutes away. Instead of apologizing  and telling her it was my fault. I’m sitting here not caring instead of going up to her and telling her the truth she needs to hear. I have a problem. My family’s a woodpile on the side of my house. The wood I never use but I like to glance at from time to time and then ignore a few seconds later. That woodpile’s pretty close to me, its always in my proximity, but yet…I never seem to care that it’s there. But I notice it. Oh, how I do notice it. I notice it so much that I pretend to not notice it because my lack of caring for the noticing of this woodpile is the only thing that matters. I have a problem. My brother is sitting on my mantle, every day he stares into my eyes, hoping and wishing I would care. Every day he’s there reminding me that he not only needs to be noticed, he needs to be cared about, and so do I. And every day I ignore him and that photograph with that picture perfect Ivy League smile.I have a problem. I don’t care for myself. I don’t really do much grooming. I mean, I shave…because I hate touching my face and feeling prickles. I don’t cut my hair, I don’t shower until I start smelling. I don’t care. I work at the one place where caring doesn’t matter. I work counting other people’s money. I don’t get into trouble or miscount because miscounting annoys me and everything has to be perfect.  It needs to be counted right, or what’s the point of counting it? It’s not because I care for the welfare of the people I count money for. Au contraire, they have more money than I do and don’t deserve my care. I have a problem. Don’t tell me I’m doing okay because I’ve completed step one of your program, because I’ve admitted that I have a problem. I’ve just said it five times. I knew I’ve had a problem before I got here. That’s not the hard part. I want to care. I want to feel empathy, or at least sympathy. I want be like everyone else. But the hard part, is that I’m not. I’m not like everyone else. And though I’ve recognized my problems they’ll always stay with me regardless of how much you try to push them out of me. You can tell me to go to these therapy sessions til I’m seventy-five, but the only thing that it’ll do is just show you how many more problems I’ve come to discuss.

I'm sitting on a shelf, wrapped in plastic, with maybe a millimeter of space between me and my partner. We all look the same, but really it's just a mask. That cheery yellow overcoat; the perfect, clean ridges, the sparkling tattoo written in green, all of it a lie. For soon my body will be devoured. My truths will be exposed. The black point that holds all  knowledge will be revealed, layer by layer, inch by inch. I don't know what kind of treatment I will recieve but there are plenty of possibilities. I may be used for knowledge, for love letters, for art beyond my wildest dreams. I may be used as a distraction from any little thing.  I may also be abused; my skin pierced, bitten, the flesh ruined. My knowledge may be broken, or worse I may be left alone in the dust. The worst possible thing, even worse than any injuries, is to be abandoned and be wasting away. For my life isn't worth living if there's nothing to do, nobody to inspire, and if my yellow overcoat of lies stays the same length forever.  If my disgustingly pink brain is not used and my knowledge stay intact, there may be a chance that I could be used, but theres always that chance that I won 't be. I stare at my companions, some are eager, others terrified, but on the outside, we all look the same. For us time is frozen, until someone makes the first ****.

"My father was a sailor
He sailed the seven seas.
He took his ship all over
He traveled as he pleased."

Feel this wind upon my face
Feel the water’s waves
Feel their salty taste.

I’m glad I ain’t lonely
I’m happy I ain’t sad
This anchor is my new friend
Tells me secrets in my head

These chains tell more than stories
These chains tell more than song
These chains have more than metal
Got rust upon their arms.

Sometimes it says it’s angry
Ain’t got no will to live
Above the sea on wooden decks
Ain’t got no skills to give.

Sometimes it wants to go below
Into the deep green sea
It’s worries gone, its troubles lost
Stories buried within.

Got money in my wallet
Got socks oh so neat
Got shoes all nice and polished
All I’m missin is my feet.

I can have all the riches in the world
Can have all the jewels
Can have the whole world at my fingers
But I still cannot have you.

Feel the rocks upon the shore
Feel the way my heart gets sore
Feel the travesties I’ve fought
This ole anchor’s all I got.

Step into the nature son and discover yourself
Wade into the river boy, and become one
Climb the branches man, like a spider in it’s web
Lay down in the tall grass, and tell stories in your head
Catch a frog on a log, and then let it go
Count the leaves  on the ground
Mess up and start over again.
Try to touch the sky lad, until your arms get tired
Then run home for supper, telling all about your time
Go to school next morning boy, and tell a gal your story
Grab her hand, and take her to that place without the worries

So you can,
Wade into the river
Climb the branches of a tree
Lay down in the grass
Telling stories with glee
Catch some frogs on some logs
Count the falling leaves
Touch the sky with all your might
Then run home by firelight

Together.

Forget Me

I’m just a tool

You use me more than anyone else

And I just keep giving back


Admit It

Without me you’re  nothing

Nobody cares about you

Until you use me again


Hold Me

Because I need to be held

Your grip is my only longing

The secret to all that’s in your mind


Underneath

My skin holds all the secrets

My grain reveals them, almost instantly

So make sure you find it soon


Destroy Me

Wear me away like your life depended on it

You know you want to, I want you to

Or my life will have no purpose at all

I hate it when I cant
Stop
Thinking
About what could be
What should be going on

I hate it when you do
That
Thing
You do. It tears
My emotions to shreds

I hate it when I my
Stomach
Flutters
Just for you
Everytime you’re around

I hate it when I long
For
Something
To change
When I know it really won’t

I hate it when you still
Act
So
Wonderful. Because
That’s just who you are

I hate it when I wait
Until
Nobody  
Wants you
But you know that’s impossible

I hate it when you
Show
Up
Everywhere I am
Because it makes me feel too great

I hate it when you don’t
Notice
One
Thing
Though that would hardly matter

I hate knowing all of this
But
Knowing
You
Know nothing of it at all

Little blackbird up on a perch,
                      Can you fly to me?
                              I need a companion on my shoulder
                                       will you be?
                                              I'm not scary as they say
                                                      just a little strange
                                                           don't be afraid
                                                               little blackbird
                                                                  I won't hurt you
                                                        Lies I may tell you            
                                                     But harmless they be
                                                   I may tell you false thoughts
                                          And tell you to believe only me
                              But how harmful can a straw man as me be?
             Everyone else has joined on my shoulder
   And they are alive and well
       Come join them little bird,
            For if you do not
                        You will be shunned from this place
                                  From your relatives and friends
                                             You are alone, my friend
                                                        No one else to back you up
                                                           So either you join or you live in solitare
                                                                  without us all
                                                             What will it be my dear friend?
                                                    Hurry will you please
                                       This straw is getting itchy
                           And I cannot bend my knees
                     This stake holding me up is
                Not very strong
          So come now fella
Move along,
                   Move along.