This is to the person
Who lives the way I do...
Whose life is a distortion
Created by the veil
That covers our minds from the truth
That living like this is hell:
The moments you overreact,
You cry and have panic attacks
The moments that you’re in your bed
When demons inhabit your head
When you push away those that you love
Because being yourself is too much
This is to those with this
Distortion,
Distortion that lives in your brain,
Beneath every single headache and then cracked between the pain.

It is a symphony of distortion
That unfolds before my weary eyes
A complicated but intricate body of work
I fight daily not to reprise

The opening sonata is slow, yet eerily intriguing
Simply starting with a beating heart
Never knowing the tempo each day will bring
Due to inconsistent sight reading from the various nourishing parts

Switching to adagio brings a fluidity of movement
Though the pace is still quite slow
An integration of crux and marrow can be painfully tedious
Thus suspending vital balances and flow

A minuet seeks to pull these things together
The lively dance of mind, body, and soul
While entertaining and fun, it can bring about an urge for perfection
Inciting an overwhelming loss of control

Finally, a sonata-rondo gradually calms the madness within this body of work
Accenting an inotation that is both a bright and hopeful sound
Yet, it still holds tempo, not willing to relinquish
The rigid temperament previously found

Spacing out, allowing my mind to wander far, far off,
Into the distance, into a dream out of reach, my personal heaven,
A distorted world where meaning has no meaning and time stands still, space is instable and the melancholy of lonesomeness prevails,
Clouds, everlasting, ever orbiting floating islands and upside down waterfalls, yet I cannot share this pleasure with anyone, I'm alone,
If I were to believe I could fly, I would be free.
Not bound by physics dragging me down, not bound by gravity,
I keep this place dear to me, for it is a world made for escape,
Only if I could lose myself in the fragnance of this dimension,
My poor body calls my soul back to where it thinks it belongs,
The dream of pleasure, with a carefree attitude is burning away,
Reality is cruel and dark, with no comfort a place with no heart,
But certainly I can hope with all my might even though weak,
That this place I am carried to when my mind is giving away my soul,
Will take me in forever one day, so I won't have to wake up.
After all, I don't have to die in a dream..

~ Umi

My life is an animation.
Just a cartoonists drawing as I drip and slide with the cosmic flow.
Bouncing off objects and seeping through the floor, deeper and deeper as I lose myself once again.
Neither existing or otherwise, just flowing and leaving it behind. Scene to scene, nothing more than a prescribed drop of emotions.
A slowmotion adventure as I explore possibilities.

please

forgive me,

this chest scar,
is a crack in the heartland,
deep rupture,
grime and shadow seeping in.

landscape,
an infinite black lake.

I can see
my reflection clear in it;
it is
broken glass, fragmented and
reassembled again,
again,
monstrous, twisted as a
swan dipped in oil, drowned twice, feathers
lathered so thickly, so
irrecoverably.

oil, oil, it drips so
slowly and sickly and
sweetly.