I feel them staring, glaring --
I'm never sure.
My mind rewinds
to a different shore,
where fish have armored skin
that protects them from
pressures of Earthen spin.

They have legs like fingers,
the fish, the people,
that tramples me, samples me
until I'm withered, feeble.

The stares are like bugs,
striding across with curious rage.
Biting, learning, living
in the hollow of my rib cage.

Like a leach you latch on
You think your bite is strong

Your annoying, that much I'll admit
Like a dog with an itch, trying to scratch off a tick

It's not blood from the vain
That you want to drain

But emotions from the soul
You want to leave holes

You've lost all of your own, so other's you seek
You have grown so very sickeningly week

But I've grown up in the abyss
That part you must have missed

I'm not what you thought
I'm not what you sought

I'm much to strong
For you to cause me harm

I will stand and scoff
As I flip your *** off

You have no rights
For you are nothing but a parasite

You.
Like a parasite, you've entered my blood
Stream and spread through my body.
Like cancer, you've grown and multiplied
Faster than I could **** you.
Like weeds you've taken over everything
I had and grown over it.
Like alcohol I'm dependant on you and
The feeling of you and the touch  of you.

You.
You may be bad for me,
But I can't give you up.

And as he sat alone in his room, he felt bitter remorse. Who is it that he hates? Himself, or God?
Maybe he'll die someday and remember what it felt like to be human, but until that day comes, he's nothing but a parasite.

poems come from the abyss
one always hopes to fill,
at least for me ,
no lines from heaven

behold the joy proposed of being an artist
worrying that you really did fail
in turning your soul to statements

the true nature of what we do , unknown to us
letting the decay of sanity sink in,
we hunt beauty by way of letting logic fall to abstraction

close your eyes, let the right line and word and image be a piranha
hand goes in the water, hoping for a bite, for something to
latch on so hard you can pull it away with you

the loving breast of an artist allows eggs to be planted inside
it, only for them to devour till fat and mature, to burst away
and take flight, as far from you as possible

Cement walls surround me.
The silence tortures me.
Crossed legged on the bed
With my head down,
Staring at a razor blade.

Oh how it excites me to see,
Blood dripping from an area where my watch should be.
I am numb to physical pain.
As i have had enough insanity.

I know deep down,
My heart screams for salvation.
Yet a stronger part that shares it,
Gives hell in ways unknown.
It screams but no one is hearing it,
Not even me.

Familiar to the situation.
Where I screamed and no one listened.
Where I spoke and no one responded.
Where I cared and no one seemed to appreciate.
The impact was stronger than they thought.
They say I'll be fine and Oh how I agreed.
Then they left.

Now I am left unloved.
Forced to smile when I don't want to.
Forced to cover up on sunny days where it's hot.
Forced to cry and refuse to go Out.
They don't love me.
And I do not know how to love myself.

Anaemic black mist creeps its way between toes,
crawling eyewards, worming stealthily up shins,
pausing only to cup bolted knees and find more
progress toward the stomach's pit where it will rest,
For now.

The soaking - from outside in - is a violation as a pore
stretched aside is all the space this ten tonne mass
needs - a callused finger pulling back a fleshy curtain
to claim squatter's rights - mashing its body into a crawl space,
It curls.

Right here, in the depths, it will feed from its host and
gradually weave a tendril through intestines and bile
like a periscope, seeking and feeling for a route to the stem:
The source of everlasting sustenance;
The end goal.

Once it latches, it will live forever suckling stance.
The insipid parasite, the binding leech; as it takes hold,
consumes with its voidwalker embrace
and paints every memory with your fault;
Perpetual guilt.

Parasitic infection, brain overtaken.
When the soul dies, I’ll fully awaken.
Constant conflict, the machine rejects me.
Chemical warfare declared, the mind is not free.
Machines can be rewired to suit the pilot,
Though the changeover can be quite violent.

Trapped within my own head,
The voices within want me dead.
I am infected, weakened and constantly irate.
Barely stable within the chaos that is my mental state.
Anxiety and disconnection from my own existence.
Reality is blurred, I am losing resistance.

Why am I the one, who myself I must fight?
Losing track who am I, am I human or parasite?

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