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Specs Jan 2019
A telephone wire cut.
Something's wrong inside my head.
The thing is, I don't know just what.

Chirping alarms
Whirring fans
Smoky smells
Red. Blinking. Lights.

A robot whose been programmed wrong,
An exposed sparking wire.
The buttons don't click all the way.
Hazardous, watch for fire.

Danger
Danger
Danger
Do not approach

This automatic switch is supposed to make me excited
This one makes a genuine smile.
Nobody notices, though, that I'm on manual control
And have been for a while.

Overheating
Overworking
Overdoing
Over

Electricity and buttons and wires
Do not mix well with water, I think.
But because I'm in desperate need of repair
I'm in constant thirst for a drink.

"Should have bought that extended warranty."
"Did you turn it off and on again?"
No.
No. Because it's broken.

Hard drive shorting
Lights are blinking
And I'm thinking
My last thoughts exporting

Crackling
Clicking
Clattering
Clanking
Clunking

The only thing that works well anymore
Is the part that goes through the motions.
Perseverance is my constant notion
As I burn myself out on the shore.

It's hot to the touch.
Back off.
Soon, it might Explode
Bruh, I don't feel like a person anymore
Ian Robinson Jan 2019
In the deep dark under
There be a blunder
Somewhere in that deep dark under

So I sit and ponder
And so I wonder
What is left to ponder

With the maple tree
I can clearly see
I sit and wonder where I be
Lot Jan 2019
When I open my eyes,
the world comes undone
What do I see? How do I know?
If the space in front of me is actual

The clock on the wall measures in tic and toc,
but what about all of the space in between?
The place where dreams exceed and monsters feed
The true birthplace of the human race
A chaotic embrace we try to disgrace
As time we say, should know its place

I’d love to scream, would that seem real?
To escape my chains and flee the pain
No longer restrained in the structural day
Away from the eyes that peer through the window frame

No, I’m not zoning out,
just planning a breakout
Sumus System Jan 2019
So many colors make up our bright mind
Only few can be seen by those outside
Our colors are wonderful, sweet and kind
Others of them are bitter, dark and hide
Each is a person hidden within us
Who want to be seen as real as we are
Sometimes they cry out they scream and they cuss
But they are nothing to fear, not by far
They are heroes who saved us from our death
Came forth from the back to stop the attack
They don’t want to wait until our last breath
Sure they have problems, but cut them some slack
Certain system members may be frightening to some, but they are heroes who kept us alive when we needed them.
Sumus System Jan 2019
My eyes burn
My hands clench
My skin tears
My chest bursts
My pain screams
My rage grows

It stops

My eyes deaden
My hands release
My skin burning
My chest heavy
My pain hidden
My rage buried
Dissociation is something I deal with daily
Sumus System Jan 2019
I see it glistening in a shadow
Beckoning me
My eyes fixate upon its resting place
Nowhere to flee
I feel my skin burning with desire
Should I give in?
I’m tired and just want to rest for once
It is a sin
But I would be doing good for others
I can’t go on
If I close my eyes I’ll finally be gone
Can’t see the dawn
I’m a coward and I’m scared of the pain
Now on with it


I can’t
You will

Leave me

Never

Go please

Not yet

Why not

You haven’t

But why

Do it




Fine
It's a struggle everyday to know what to do
Sumus System Jan 2019
I’m floating now
I’m drifting off
No need somehow
To have blastoff
There is some pain
But nothing bad
I still feel sane
But just a tad
I close my eyes
And ease my breath
No more disguise
A silent death
I shouldn’t go
They’d all be stressed
I wake to woe
Prolong my rest
Sumus System Jan 2019
Cracks form in my tender heart
A Hardening and toughening dart

Tears dry and stop their flow
Not of happiness but of sorrow

The pains dulls over time
More present however, in its prime

Still living at almost functionality
Slowly losing touch with reality

The sobbing halts in a bind
Not of peace, of a broken mind

My heart is broken and almost unfeeling
It’s evolved and become great at concealing
I learned to survive by distancing myself
Ian Robinson Jan 2019
I write this through cold fingertips
Dipped in the blood of my heart
I see my own soul in the bathroom mirror
It's weird i can see myself so much clearer
So while i lie here alone
And stare deep into my phone,
Call out to me,
I'll reply with the cold dead truth

The cold dead oak tree
Roots itself inside my head
But i have never bled
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