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Stephen Nov 2018
The world is a gaping maw of ignorance
Filled to the brim with hatred,
Intolerance,
Unadulterated bigotry,
And millions of eyes,
Blinded mid-lobotomy,
That self-performed procedure
That protects the subject
From any sudden understandings.
Things are not as they ought to be,
But then things never were
And never will
Be.
The world is the way it is,
And those of us who couldn’t cut into our own calculating core,
Those of us who attempted the task with a torrent of tonics
Instead of hammer and shiv,
Find ourselves wandering through a wasteland of willful
Idiots and bigoted bullies.
Try as we might to open their eyes,
Open their minds,
We fail.
Their eyes are hollow shells and dust.
Their minds are awash with religious rules, rifles, ruination,
Walls, borders, fences,
Imaginary lines drawn everywhere,
Over everything,
And their brains are protected from learning anything new
Or different
By miles of scar tissue and an overabundance of barnacles.
So that leaves the rest of us,
The ones with eyes open, minds primed and wide,
Stuck.
Lost in a world of people who will never understand,
Never let real freedom ring,
Never erase the imaginary lines they drew themselves,
Never accept that everything they believe
Is preposterously perverse.
The more we try to spread the truth,
Attempt to put an end to the primitive procedure of self inflicted
Amentia,
The more they try to stomp us out,
Extinguish our flames,
Burn us to the ground.
But we continue to fight, to bleed, to die.
Sometimes because we still have hope that things can and will
Get better.
But more often than not,
We fight on because it's the only thing that keeps us
From picking up that ice-pick ourselves and becoming
Another one of the mindless masses.
mind your head
can’t concentrate
i want you to go
don’t stay away
i’m being feisty
my smile is numb
you got me walking
saying “*******”
you’re in my line
of sight and range
but duck your head
before it’s too late
my voices are all out
i won’t say a thing
but i’ll hang around
till i get what you mean
pardon, i lost my mind
when you came around
you’re far too high for me
so let me go, let me go down.
Inspired by: Peach (Lobotomy) by Waterparks
Harry Roberts Nov 2017
I'm not me
I swear it see
Since a teen
I seen a part
Of me that's mean.

Apart of me that's been
Apart of me that knows
Hidden till it shows
Though it hardly
Ever blows.

It's older
Colder
More daring
And bolder.
It's apart as
Much as it is seperare.

It stole my age
Cause older I feel
In turn
And cold how the fire
In me burns.
But for breath it yearns
At ends with me.

Mostly I'd like to
Lay in the Sea
And be free.
But my demon
Makes me live
And evade the currents
Caught in me.

My demon makes
Me me, we lack
Dichotomy.
I'm one with
What opposes me,
In an convenient
Lobotomy.
Powerhouse Aug 2016
I miss you,
And I'm up in arms
Over something my brother said.

See I've have things I
Struggle with
Almost constantly,
Like because I have a handful of mental illnesses,
Does that make me bad?

Or do my illnesses
Make me insane?
Or does my illness
Mean I'm held
More or less accountable
For things I can't control?

Having been abused,
Does that mean I'll repeat the cycle?
Or does it my mental illness
Make me so?

I'm up in arms
For having been accused
Once or twice
Of using someone as a punching bag,
But she fails to remember
The majority of our Junior and Senior
Years,
When she would gladly rip into me
All because she felt it was right,
During her time of month.

Not to say it was right,
It wasn't right,
For me to treat her poorly
As I tried to survive,
But either way,
There were ways to end a friendship
Better than her falsehoods.

And I'm up in arms,
Because I'm on the defensive,
And I'm scared I'm not my best,
And I know in real, grown up love,
So they say,
You're supposed to stick by someone
Even at their worst.

And I'll stick by you,
Easily.
It won't be difficult for me.
I've seen some things.

But I don't want you
To ever see me
At my worst,
So I'm up in arms,
And I'm scared,
And I'm considering
Getting the deep insides
Of my medial temporal lobe
Removed.

Just remove
The limbic system.

I don't know.
Nightmares and memories
At every turn.

I have to go back
To that **** hole
For half an hour tomorrow.

I'm honestly terrified.
Hate Leesburg. Hate remembering. I just want to curl up and disappear today.
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2016
Tapping scabs smolder my face; predictable
And prophecy, like owning a, “dead man’s hand,”
Parallel the pistol at your back.
It all began when the pen’s been dropped,
Somewhere untouchable; beyond claw,
Sooner the excuse as I’d long forgotten, “run.”
When drink’s not enough and, “escape’s,” the
Only to embrace oblivion, so it is and
So wrought, a solid right-hook.

Executed in pandemonium and
Scrambled eggs upstairs,
I scratch a different sort of stubborn
Come a morning in between graffiti,
An anxiety born an impatience for an already evening
And, “newborn,” as I look for the
Baby’s skin beneath battered lash;
But I’d killed that boy long ago.

It’s when I find the green in between cracks,
Concrete pervades and poisoned memories of mother,
Return; they’re scratched upon the stone,
Carved under cheek, knotted in lumber and heart.
I’ve hammered the point upon slab
And before and before and after;
Indenting the first letter to my name, remember me,
Whilst continuing to procure this numb
Nearing necropolis.

The fight’s last night, but the blister’s
Every day, every hour and every minute;
Eternity, as I trace my cheek with *******,
Once with a ring, and the other
A broken knuckle, swollen in a
Twenty-second attempt to never let go;
One more second or so and so,
Ticking, “21,” I fold, letting ropes conjure false hope
And only after the hands have grown frigid.

So much the longer after my heart had
And so much the better.
Lucrezia M N Jul 2016
I can't fathom anymore
under and above the weather
all it's gone wild
spun out of control,
whatsoever a mess
can always get a chance from me.

Heavy heart pleased to soar
blemished and untethered
my lone wolf mind,
light and dark like charcoal,
falls for recklessness
And for a quantum of solace to be free.

If that's the case I need a lobotomy
for your eyes of carefulness
makes me brittle and evolve,
like strangers combined,
the same way, for better
or worse we meet in a bite of our core.
To the stranger I've found in me and the one I'm gonna meet in few days...
Kathleen M Apr 2016
The dead trespass through my mind
They cave in skulls through forced lobotomy
They strap the population for lethal injection
They take lead fists to soft flesh
Claws to clean eyes
Stealing voices
Cutting out pink tongues
Cramming microphone down your throat
Can you hear me now
Hammers and clubs slam death home with every blow
Tonight we let the victims show
Nora Apr 2016
maybe if i chilled my mind
with an icepick drill
the world would sit icy still
JR Rhine Jan 2016
Just a little off the top.
Drawin' a dotted line
'round the skull
takin' your shears
just above the ear.

Cuttin' a close crop.
Burrowin' into the skin this time
'round the skull
now your clippers
smilin' so chipper.

Leavin' a head clean smooth.
Whistlin' at a near-finished work
'round the skull
peelin' back the skin
bravin' a peek within.

Grabbin' that comb with its fine tooth.
Unfurlin' that pink mass of quirk
'round the skull
eyein' where tendrils append
trimmin' the dead ends.
Insanity/conformity. Memories of old barbers cuttin em all high and tight existing among memories I wish they'd trim off.
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