They tell me these mental disorders
Deteriorate
With age.
My broken psyche shattered on delusional possibilities,
Broken into asymmetric bits,
Of what was left of my personality.

I am all that remains,
Of Nolan Bucsis.
Jagged half thought out ideas
Controlled by someone else.

And,
Me, stuck in the vortex
Of what could have been.
Sailing into the banks of self abnegation
Run aground on
The ledge before the sundering out of the ego.

This is the austerity of self destruction
And the mundanity of a
Mid life crisis.

Every memory a horrible place,
A rotten deed,
With my-
Revulsion of the self,
With,
Destruction through the delirium of drugs.
Stochastic change.

And,
Self inflicted misery.

All that remains is the rubble.
The desolation of isolation.
Just trying to get up the motivation
To viciously criticize myself
In all my inadequacies.

Aghast-
Agape-
At the auto-didactic nature of automatic anaylsis.

But, I will run the ship of normalcy
Into the rocky shore
Of habitual neurotic persistence.