It had to super secede conscious thought.
To be biologically absolute.

Overthinking is a non conundrum.
Fight or flight, that’s all that’s left.

Removing choice, perhaps the key,
Though it’s no clear cut sanity.

Precision is swift, through non mortal blows,
Just within the fringes of lethality.

On the edge of life or the brink of death.
Let the flesh decide for itself.

Why is that I'm still here
Trapped in a room, with your pictures on the wall.
That whenever I go near, it disappears
And If I do get to touch it, I fall

Why is that with every fall, I end up back here.
Repeating the same scenario over and over
Getting back up, fall, then shed tears.
The more I fall, the room gets colder

Why can I not stop and give up
Abandon you and start living
With every fall my sanity blows up
But my heart insists on beating

For you and none other
Even if it starts to bleed
I will never falter
I will never concede

I reach out and pound on the glass.
I scream to the world, fist bleeding,
Voice scratching into hoarse whispers.

Everyone. They all move...on.

The roads diverged. And I’m on every path.
But more importantly I’m on none.

Am i blind? What is this? Why have the gods forsaken me? Wait, I see a light. Within the light I see only dark. Where am I? I wake. Thousands of shivers run down my spine as I rise up towards the source. I am alone. The light seems to be moving, does it want me to follow it? The ground beneath me is soft, almost sand like. I follow the light, why is it so dark?
It seems like hours have passed, but time is irrelevant in the eternal darkness, it seems. Even the source is dark, only less dark than it's surroundings. I tire. I reach toward the heavens in prayer, for that is all I have left. No answer. The light beckons. Millions of thoughts run through my mind. Am I dead? Is this limbo? Or purgatory? I shake. I do not even remember who I am. How did I get here? Weird, I don't feel like I'm dead. I still feel pain in my legs and my body from my journey. I pinch myself, what sort of horrible nightmare is this? The pinch hurts. I am sweating. Wake up! I shout, as I bang my head against my hands. It's no use. The only comfort I have, is the presence of this entity, that for some reason is leading me into what seems like oblivion. I become more and more weary of it, yet I'm drawn to it. It is my only hope. But first I must rest. Both my body and mind. Feels like most of the journey is ahead of me. I can't give up. Not now. I fear I will be consumed. It's as if something is watching me, I can almost hear it's breathing. The incessent silence feels louder and louder. It hurts no longer.

Sitting on an island
Between slumber and work,
Tuning into all the waves that pass me by
I’ve made my big decision
Reason firm set in my mind
But diluted by the breaking of the tide

What is this?
It's not Heaven
It's not Hell
Sometimes it hurts
Sometimes it heals
It's this middle place
Where we feel everything
Some days it's Heaven
Some days it's Hell
I just wish
It could make up its mind
Because on Hell days
Weeks, months, years
The hope of just one Heaven day
Is too much to bear

Home is
   Longing for a different view
   Sitting in a tiny bedroom, watching the birds fly
Envious of their freedom

Anywhere else I
   Feel the incessant tug of my family that want me back
   Simultaneously longing for the Friday night card games
And laughing with my mother

Irate clouds leave my mind overcast.
Forming a tempest in my hyperactive right hemisphere
even though I beg them to fade into calm like
tums in a glass or pop that’s lost its fizzle.

Unsympathetic,
arduous reminders of memories sweet - forged in permanent ink.
Or -- hope that this period of uncertainty too shall pass.

Either way, my thoughts have this sort of
morphine fascination with the tension deep inside me.
Internal addicts getting high at my demise,
Or -- a tolerance break hiding behind a viscose curtain of grief

Either way, I feel like I’m dying.
Or - maybe I’ve never been more alive.
Cause you know, pain is often perceived as pleasure
Stimuli are weird

Maybe I'm just afraid.
Stricken by the thought of separation
from what brought me to comfort
and losing part of myself.

Terrified of the ambiguity associated with change.
Terrified of giving my all just to end back at the start.
But existence is neither
cyclical, linear or spectrum-based
it just is.

I’m in control of nothing.
Which is the most liberating feeling
but also what’s rendered me paralyzed.
I guess I’ll just have to wait.