by Arcassin Burnham

In a room full of sinners , there's girls , and there's boys, and there's false leaders
Planning and preying on all of the people,
People are starting to wake up and realize what's going on because of the misguided teachings,
Freeing your mind in this cruel world don't make you any less of a person , man it only gets lethal,
Banding together is the only way in this life , Maybe we should call a meeting.

Times are hard you see,
Suicidal teens , slowly increasing,
Into the furnace,
Brutal memories,
Clashing of teeth , hands out , say please,
Down into the furnace.

I never thought that we would make it far in this condition,
I never thought I could determine what this means,
I never thought that I would see the light of day again.
I never thought that I would kiss like what they did in movies,
I never thought that love would really deceive me,
I never thought that....
Everything would fall into place, at the wrong pace.

Times are hard you see,
Suicidal teens , slowly increasing,
Into the furnace,
Brutal memories,
Clashing of teeth , hands out , say please,
Down into the furnace.

The plight of man is the right of man.

haint gonna mock ridiculous science
     asper to be bled
dark practices to leech out mailer daemons,
     not so laughable nor in cred

double, when oppressed diabolical  dread
oompah loompah fealty l'chaim fled
as hand grenades explode within my head
mettlesome monsters

     make mercuric chrome dome feel like a led
zeppelin with fractured stairway to heaven in stead...
delivers me zombies, where angels fear to tread  
cuz, the devil and psyche did wed

shotgun Swedish crow did house mafia style
wrenched, wrested wretched
     mental state most intense (no croc) dial
shattered, slewed, splintered sanity,
     thus practitioner with "FAKE" know how aisle

apprentice Aunt Roadie,
     who will skewer me evil spirits den da deuce
till I beak home one sacrificed overly cooked goose
a burnt offering shish kabob

     no longer able to raise cane on the loose
like a red bull
     rocky on the shoals of a frantically angry moose
livid with rage
     (akin to diary of mad a housewife)
   entropy written, where death will be only truce

pyromaniac qua ramshackle shanty (tinderbox)
     unleashes wicked zeal
hellacious incendiary juiced ride
     up plies noisome rubbery odor,

     sans hot wheel
along the outer limits of functionality explosions
     precipitate like drops of molten steel
routing hunger, searing nostrils,
     tearing tenuous fragile tethered tendrils

     self cannibalizing via tooth and nine inch nail      
     linkedin with nauseousness as thine meal
exemplary asper full blown panic attack
     lodged within mine genetic blooper print deal.

When I was thirteen,
I was anxious about my obsessive rituals,
Didn't expect that it was Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
And once you have it, it will never leave you.
Even at night, when I go to bed.
My mind drowns in waves of questions.
Have I washed my hands?
Are these plates clean enough?
Did I close the door?
Have I drank enough water?
It was hard for me,
The repetitions,
The struggle of everything turning into endless cycles          

When I was fourteen, I said,
"Mom? I'm having these kind of rituals."
I said, "Mom? Am I getting better?"
Well, mom thinks it's normal. But it's not.      
Well, I feel something bad and I feel that the world was against me, that the rituals were indeed sempiternal.

When I was fifteen,
My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder had completely risen up to another level.
I feel anxious, I feel bad, I feel that I am slowly sinking into an ocean filled with unspoken mysteries.
And every time, I try not to listen to those voices, those voices seem unable for me to conquer, those voices become higher than my power.

So when I turned sixteen,
I wished the life of a genuinely normal teen.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is like a spell, a lifetime spell.
A spell that covers me, that controls me,
a spell with ***** hands that touch my soul.
And yet people think I'm crazy, I'm insane, that I'm hopeless, but the truth is I need help. I need people to stop the judgements and please understand my condition.

Where have you gone
You poor soul
My precious friend?
Without you
I am floundering
Wallowing
In a place that is not home
Please come back
I miss you and
Your strangeness
Your individuality
That so shook
The status quo
Now I am shaken
Broken
Empty
Without you

There once did live an unfortunate soul
who from childhood had been diagnosed
with a very rare unknown medical condition
that also defined its own awkward position.
And as it went, it just didn’t know when to stop
until one day it received an unexpected notice
informing it that its time now was almost up
just moments before its heart bled into a cup.
Then instead of normal blood there was seen
that which looked like the colour of diarrhoea
and the stench resembled that of its breath
last exhaled from its gaping mouth at death.
__________