Sometimes I suddenly wake
Scared, anxious, nervous
Flooded with memories
Of a familiar stranger
And the scariest part
is this image, of myself,
so vulnerable, so happy

next to him.

Metaphors; nested, unconncected.

High order entaglements due to a damaged brain.

Fulfiled, Afraid, confused, dreams make you petrified.

Ask yourself those questions.

Conceptualised, formulated and executed
in a damaged brain.

Tremendous courage and steady blood flow through my veins
clamp your fists and hold on tightly

I will make it through sane
on both my feet
even if I have to strain.

If its you who love me, I shall dream of you
and write about you,
from a damaged brain.

I used to have this night terror...
a man or multiple chasing me
trying to kidnap me
I watched him kidnap so many others

he reached out to me
this scary man with a disguise of female features...
I never understood
where and what created this fear of abuse
at such a young age I ran from more men in my dreams than I did in real life...
I never thought of being abused...
I have no memories.
Was I? did something happen to me?
I will never truly know. I see kids getting kidnapped from their homes in my dreams
Do I know exactly what that means? How far will they take me?
Is it simply the fears of the world, pushed into a child's brain so that it may never leave, a matter of fact.
the knowledge that should be engrained. or is it the past lives of many once lived? / an unconscious collective of memories.
just simply I will never know.

the night terrors turn to day dreams
i witness myself being choked...
i can feel someone watching me
i lose track of time
watching some take their time on me...
i cause myself tears...

i create all these fears in my head
i can see them so clear
these fears i could never control
and i never once understood

never the memories of someone i knew
all strangers
created
from a memory
i almost knew

Welcome to Misadventure, you're drawn to it in some berserk way, maybe due to it's atomic habits or technological urges,

sometimes there are cool, but irrational gun-totting robots who speak in foam, their presence detected by iron filings or teeth fillings or both or neither,

I just know there are tire tracks on your wife's new dress, the smell of gasoline coming from the guest bedroom, and a half-eaten Stouffers lasagna rotating on the record turntable,

and here a replicated version of your wife dances to the Italian Song, her ******* like lodestones, upturned and pressed together,

drawing you to them in some berserk way,
and they give such life and merriment to your brain's parcel of needles, that they prance and sway as if the devil were in them.

The darker my dreams get
the less I look for the light.

I can only see the duality
between my perceived reality
and the one you present.

I wake from gravity slipping
from the rot surrounding me
where everything is meaningless
unless there's someone to tell you that it isn't.

where everything is meaningless
once someone tells you that you are
and it turns out to be true
because they’ve shown you the nature of man.

My life feels like an empty coffee cup

The buzz has past and only the specs

That will be washed away remain

My eyes stare vacantly as I turn

Page on, page on, page




My mind wandering away from the dictionary definition of the words on the page

Searching for an answer

Some motivation, a surge of energy

Just one urge to move




My sheets are not just where I sleep

They are where I suffer

A place where dreams come true

But nightmares too









Are people running to go someplace?