You carry with you pick-pocketed fairytales In hopes to find something close enough to home That can fill your glass half-full You sew yourself into white noise Soak your hands in spring waters That rush down memory lanes Putting together a mosaic of the greener grass you saw On the other side Stitching together fragments of light From the end of the tunnel Even bought yourself some rose coloured glasses To see the silver lining of every cloud But it all falls short When the tree stops bearing lemons So, what does life give now? Besides some shade and something to laugh about...
Every night of every sedative Not being addictive but only for reactive Every of them are the fear and sensitive Naive? Nope, I am not In a confusion, restless morning The hardest to get up I called them- what should I call them? Crowded in head Silent in dead How's to feel ahead
I have been medicating, and still for my acute depression and they gave me schizophrenia medicine. I'm just.. I just want to survive during these phase.
Now I lay me down to sleep, mind naught but unwound thread, the nearly risen sun prepared to rear its ugly head. No mowing, honks, or rooster’s crow, but sounding in their stead: my racing thoughts, your steady breath, all time suspended here in bed.
I hate getting home so late that I don’t get to see him but he always manages to roll over and wrap an arm around me so I feel comforted while I stare at the ceiling for hours, trying to wind down....
the noxious dragon in the spine awakens some kind of poisoned Kundalini stretches upwards, burrows downwards sends out spiral tendrils across tendons enraged villi seeking something, anything to sink themselves into and cause neural ruination a kinetic torment raging
Who is born Happy and smiling You cry While others smile As you grow Restlessness presides They say First attain peace Everything falls in order Is attaining peace Child's play? I question This world Propels restlessness Never wait For peace to come Lest fodder to the world You become Try simultaneously Peace procedure And work towards Your material welfare Simultaneously A little buddha, a little yodha(warrior) Inner Engineering With external performance Disorder to come to order Don't wait to be a Buddha Everyone can't be a Buddha
In lethargies grip and restless mind, I come again upon the day. Where demons of my minds design, find acres bare to frolic and to play.
An emptiness that invades my core, until only black thought dwells in there. Where tiredness is all I can feel, and darkest depression is thoughts heir.
No calming thoughts to ease my mind, and no safety can my lost soul yet feel. The endless sensation of putrid stagnation, no layers to other emotions have I left to peel.
Foreboding and deep weariness dark as shadow, accompanies each thought and task within my day. And though I seek escape by non-participation, against thought there is no strategy I can play.
Turmoil to life's patterns of sleep and wakefulness, where a soul and mind each attacks my own mortality. Until left with just one clear and rational thought, Of how simple and complete my final escape can be.
Winning just gets harder. Perhaps this exorcism will help yet again.