In a world where paranoia
doesn't kiss incessantly at my neck,
and run her hands down the length of my arms
to thread her fingers through mine,
I could be.
Instead, she connects my goosebumps
forming constellations that would
astonish me if I weren't so terrified of them.
Instead, she weaves her cold fingers through my hair,
only to leave it more tangled than before.
Instead, she leaves the indents of her nails
like crescent moons to complement her
all across my arms
Instead, she slips moths inside my mouth,
left open in sleep, where they fall terrified
into my chest and flutter against my heart
until it can no longer remember how to beat.
Instead, the winter that surrounds her
leaves my lips chapped and bleeding
and I pray she won't kiss that part of me as well,
because if she ever did,
I'd never be able to find my way up for air.
Fingers type aggressively into the night as I stare at the screen of my phone.
A group debate about whether or not applying deodorant to your rectum will stop the chronic itching is being played out
We all smile and laugh.
For the record, it totally will.
The discussion of memes enthrals my mind as I relax into the cotton comforter.
The feeling of satisfaction travels through my veins as I embrace the friendship I have and the light, playful conversation taking place.
Anxiety and paranoia settle in and take their well worn places in my mind.
Like icy blue dragons, they curl around my thoughts, just waiting for these people who will soon be irrelevant to leave me.
The words they type about Harambe have no meaning
But the words they think about what I say in return imprison me.
Fear of abandonment creeps in as I swirl the aspects of my personality into a hue that will convince them not to drop me in a ditch.
I know, not because I’m afraid, but because I’ve seen it happen, that my trust in them will be burned to ashes eventually and I’ll be yet
Another traitor to the fragile glass of friendships that we all hold together.
Just waiting for them to use my insecurities against me like a time bomb ticking
Ticking in my ear.
And I can’t see the timer.
But I laugh along.
And send a relevant emoji.
They laugh at my jokes and I can’t stop thinking about how soon enough they’ll be laughing at
Let’s Get This Straight.
Every twitch, an act of war.
Every memory, a hypothetical.
Cause I’ve know how you see.
Optical nerve to neuron,
down the axon.
I don’t need you to excuse me.
Because I’m not paranoid,
maybe your brain’s the liar,
checked out, unemployed, watching for a misfire.
Unlike you I maintain caution,
And I know you’re always waiting
once I choose fight over flight.
Washin’ blood off my hands, left and right.
No one understands my defense.
It’s Thomas Paine, commonsense.
But they’re just playing,
You’re as much the caged animal as you paint me,
to be patiently playing possum.
No Maya Angelou.
Soon, it’ll be your gossip too.
Cause anyone on the run,
must be the one with gun.
Shut your mouth,
I’m staring straight at your fangs.
Like a snare, it hangs.
Admit your gallows are full.
The bile behind that benign smirk,
Yes, not a smile.
BECAUSE I’M NOT CRAZY
I think I’ve tracked a mess through the door,
Urine, blood, but I digress, I’ve ruined your floor.
With my whore fluids, general sewage.
I don’t know where it came from,
That’s a lie.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to play dumb.
But I’m struggling with my bloodstream,
No, I’m just not supposed to be here.
Oh, no that’s just the sub dermal itch.
I’ve got an ant colony,
same as a detox patient.
would an apology be a paradox?
I’m the one not taking medication,
Clonazepam, lorazepam, alprazolam.
Don’t worry you won’t notice me.
You see, I’ve got a system, I guarantee.
Cause I put up resistance to my condition.
I don’t scream or cry, I’d rather die.
So I scratch, carve my name with nails,
That patch of skin is now scales.
I will not atone for my sin if no one knows.
It isn’t a crime, but you reap what you sow.
But they say its okay,
so long as I never use a blade.
I’m trying to get clean, general hygiene,
my rotting cadaver is labyrinthine.
Because I do not mean to offend.
Obama was the nicest guy - Intelligent and cool.
Comparatively speaking, his successor plays the fool.
Ridiculous and baseless tweets, The Donald can't avoid.
His recent missives indicate he's turning paranoid.
Barack Obama seems to be Trump's ongoing obsession.
Obama saved the U.S.A. from Bush-induced recession.
The Donald hates Barack's success and can't leave it alone,
and Trump, now "off the rails", claims Obama bugged his phone!
Trump's offered no supporting facts for his emphatic claim.
No warrants from the F.B.I. or C.I.A. to blame.
Perhaps he thinks Barack Obama has a super-power
that lets him fly high in the sky to break into Trump Tower.
So, do you wonder, Donald Trump, just where Barack is now?
Is he there behind the curtains? Is he in the walls somehow?
Is he watching from the ceiling? Is he in the chandelier?
Is he in your 15th closet? Do these thoughts fill you with fear?
Is he down at Mar-a-Lago, in the old groundskeeper's shed?
Is he disguised just like Melania, right there in your bed?
The truth may be much worse than that! Does it fill you with dread,
to realize Barack is living... deep inside your head?
I have you in my sight
Time to take that picture
Saving it with your name
So you can look yourself up
Tell me where you are now
I need to know for your safety
Forget about privacy
Everyone's life is becoming an open book
Film all of your surroundings
to give memories more meaning
You look so much more happier
with that shining bright filter on
Slave of the new media
Need to confirm my existence
So please give me your opinion
to make my wasted days count
through meaningless stares at the screen
Real emotions never shown
Have you heard the news?
Why are you ignoring me?
Because everybody else has heard
about the truth of my lies
I’m paranoid in the morning,
I’m paranoid at night.
I know they’re out to get me -
They think that I’m not right
They talk in darkened corners.
They whisper when I’m gone.
I hear their silent mutters,
They haunt me all day long.
I’m running to far off places,
Hiding behind closed doors,
Staring from barred windows,
I’m crawling up the walls.
When they come and get me
They’ll see that I am gone.
I won’t be here to find me.
They think they’re right. They’re wrong.
In his address to Congress,
The Donald brazenly
revealed plans to spread fear through
a brand new agency.
It will report and list all crimes
by each new immigrant,
to heighten paranoia's spread
amongst the ignorant.
By fanning fiery flames of fear,
the bigots shall rejoice,
and they shall love the agency
that Trump is naming "VOICE".
Now, I propose an agency
to give another choice,
that balances the propaganda
to be spread by VOICE...
An agency that recognizes
Donald's vile role
as chief hatemonger of the world.
It shall be named, "A$$HOLE".