"hallucinated" poems
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
I am aware as the colors of my aura
fade from vibrant to mute
A spiraling sense of self grasps at false promises of hope or help
Each face that shows itself as an ally is simply mirage or ghost
Or wisps of nothingness I probably hallucinated to cope
I am an anchor in a rushing tide
Life floods by with no more than a glance over the shoulder
Some collide from behind urging me to move on, frustrated when I don’t align with their idea of time
I need to be unapologetically ‘not ok’
Imagine my electric shock when I find that’s not an option
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Thousands of years I have lived
And now I feel like little bacteria
My heart is filled with pores
And people call it ostia
The night's are glazing with pleurobranchia
And thank God I didn't get ******* hemiplegia
Solitary I feel in my animal kingdom
I wish I could do something with my boredom.
How amazing are these euplectellian shrimps
Dieing together imprisoned
Symptoms of true love they show to me
Together up to death they are known to be.
Maybe I am the class imperfecta
But by birth I am a mammalia
I wish we could both be mycorrhiza
And get hallucinated with amanita.
Someday we would make a synapse
And get into the love with mitochondria
And there our nervous system stops
And there the impulse will walk .
No special organelles I have
I'm just 70s ribosome
My heart is incipient
With foldings of mesosome
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Tell me, please,
what makes you think I’m not capable
of loving you.
What makes you think that I’ve
never fallen in love with boys who
had nightmares so horrible that they wouldn’t sleep
for days upon days and boys who hallucinated
six crows always circling above my eyes.
Let’s not forget the boy who cringed
and cried when I touched him,
because of where his father’s hands wandered when
he was only five years old.
Tell me, please,
why I don’t know how to love people
who are easy to love,
or why you think that you are some
drastic case of sorrow, survivor’s guilt,
and enough anxiety and depression to bury the world -
you are not. I’ve loved people
who had laid themselves in
deeper graves than you.
Believe me, there is enough scar tissue around my heart
to handle loving every single
part of you.
Darling,
you are not exempt from love.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
an ****** calligraphy
of hallucinated images
gesture to the posturings
of omitted consciousness
the preoccupations
that puncture the ‘rational’ thought
of a false corporeality
and rely on an artificiality
to produce a reality
writes of the pagan haunts
of silver ****** ghosts
of fantastic rumors
of acquired futuristic loathing
where cognitive disturbances are
the reconnaissance of a fragmented mind
seeking an evacuation to the past
screams at the monuments of
immediate dismissal of everything
not of their transmission
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
sitting in a bar unawares
sobriety is relinquished
incoherence
voicing hallucinated delirium
sweating profusely in distress
disconnected
without identity, without form
a long and terrible descent
into the effects of derealization
staring at nothing
listening to imaginary sounds
that cling to the dark draperies
that hang upon the walls of the mind
charting the outer geography of life
with invested inner humanity
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
The moon dangled hard through the city
and the moth-lamps hummed discord with the wetness.
The dripping stars like accidents in spilt milk,
waited for a mop.
Walking home I hallucinated men
coiled up with the smoke-stacks.
They pressed through the brickwork and
as shadows flickered in the street-light.
Though my torch cut them down like saplings
and the moon ripped off their heads like scarecrows,
each man was a sermon,
a vastness straining the borders of sight.
A tailored uselessness hung there arms,
waspish currents tore from their mouths.
Starlings turned on their cross-wind,
as messengers of some sleeveless silence.
The moonlight fell on them like whorls,
like hurricane petals, hostile
were the shopsigns, they moved backhandedly.
The gulls raged. The crows filled silence they left.
The shadows all danced to the back of my head.
And when I turned they were gone.
I'm plucking for life and a body.
That shrinks the world to their size.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
When the moon hovers hallucinated
on the post canal
breaking in bubbles of fish breath
the white widow of the night
revives her long dead tongue
to lick the scales of your skin
pulling you into her bed of nails
making love with you the whole night
leaving you bruised and insatiate
when they find your shadow
scouring the edge of the canal
with her name on its lip.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:52 AM UTC
I ripped our love apart.
I defiled it.
Whatever we had I graffitied all over,
I sprayed noxious fumes over a work of art.
And you're gone.
I ate our love up.
Devoured it.
We had a four course meal planned out.
I ate the desert before the meal began.
And you're gone.
I bulldozed our love.
Destroyed it.
We were architects for not just a building, a city.
I burned the plans, the structures.
And you're gone.
I killed our love.
Murdered it.
a life of
Your pit bull and
hairless cat and
motorcycle
Workbench
-did you ever take that course?
love
Your eyes when they were seventy.
When we were on shrooms,
I hallucinated you at seventy.
I started crying because you were so beautiful.
That was before I went homicidal.
But you are gone.
And I don't blame you.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 4:25 AM UTC
the whole uni-world-verse is a work of art
painted, sculpted, written, strummed, yelled, whispered, spoken, hummed,
watched, read, walked, met, clutched, felt, thought, fraught, shot, healed,
sealed, revealed, eaten, clapped, drummed, hugged, kissed, loved, hated, caressed,
sexed, hit, held, slit, melded, tripped, tasted, clothed, wasted, hurt, emaciated,
bounded, re-created, infinite, hallucinated, framed, contained, insane, profane,
profound, no-sound, throned, starved, crowned,
and could the hues and colors of experience be expressed
I would have worked this art to show and speak to no one
but as the same, no none
and yes some
to a sandwich multitude and the star-gaze vigil
from the back, to the front, in the middle.
all big, all mid, all little
and silent as a God watching young girls play fiddle.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
I remember when I was in the hospital and I didn't sleep for two days straight because I swore to god that if I did the demons would step out from under the bed and seep into my head.
I remember when it was three am, and I was shaken awake from the girl three doors down shrieking from the night terrors that her mother embedded into her skull with her fist and a belt when she was eight. But, they were then stored away until she was thirteen years old and a man swore that he'd beat her if she didn't cooperate. So, now they hide during the day, and creep back up when the sun falls.
I remember when I witnessed a boy unintentionally scratch at his skin until he bleed for an hour because the voices inside of his mind told him that if he didn't hurt anyone else, he would just have to hurt himself. and he swears he'd never hurt anyone besides himself.
I remember when I met a girl who had cuts up and down her arms and legs from when her mother told her she'd never survive the world because she isn't good enough. But, I swear to god that she was the strongest person I've ever met.
I remember when my roommate stayed up all night rocking with bloodshot eyes and deep purple circles underneath of them because she swore that if she slept the monsters inside of her head would crawl out and bleed into her soul.
I remember when the boy five doors down hit the wall so hard that it shook the entire unit because he hallucinated a man and a little girl trying to strangle him, and he swore he could feel the noose around his neck.
even through all of this, for some odd reason teenagers think it's lovely to have deep scars and to hear voices telling them to **** themselves and everyone around them. I swear, nothing is lovely about demons eating at your brain and thoughts.
I remember when it was four am, and I was up weeping from the fact that people think my suffering is lovely.
I can swear to you, it's not.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
private, you are to open new pathways in the north sector
sir, but we found the main power and then it was gone
sir, this tells me that this will happen again and again
are you refusing to follow a direct order from a commanding officer?
sir, no sir
ok good, because we think you might have just hallucinated finding the main power, or maybe just hallucinated that it disappeared
you are a fine soldier
clear the enemies from your mind, and they can't shoot you
yes sir!
now, get in there and dig deep...find that main power and free it
the whole world is depending on you
that's a lot of innocent people
a lot of guilty too sir
private! we are only worried about the innocent
when we get their power, they will take care of the guilty
here are your weapons, peyote to see, mushrooms to do
sir, yes sir!
now get in there and clear some space!
see you on the other side of consciousness soldier
sir, yes sir!
OORAH!
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 3:30 PM UTC
Writing prompt of the hour: mandrake
oh poison, what poison doth whisper in my ear
race through my veins like molten metal
cause the hottest summer to season in my mind
echoes a terrible trembling in my tingling limbs
it is mandrake, oh such deadly shade of night
that raises me to the floor luring my knees to my face
in unequalled gross distortions
oh mandrake, thou art a shade so deadly
as to make the blackest night quiver
now this poison makes strange ineluctable rhythms
gradually and patiently enter my body, my thoughts
like a gradual orchestral cadence of static melody
subtly wisping around my whole being.
destructive mandrake now scampers in my blood
becomes inseparable and lives in me
in fiery flocks of hallucinated concepts.
it fires through my body like burning sulphur
this mandrake, this poison
that has prolonged persistence
makes an experience of antediluvian treachery
from another time, not of this time, this present, this now
this here
mandrake has embalmed me to
the red roguish clay
I die ghastly from a writing prompt
mandrake, mandrake, deadly nightshade
fuqing mandrake
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
By the time hard candy
Flashes in front of soft eyes,
Two hazel halos have
hallucinated to sweet infinity.
Reciprocated intimacy, repeatedly
Fitting and splitting our favourite trinity.
Brace to brave another winter with me.
Only this time let’s do it better.
Just in time to chase our fate.
Replace that precious cycle.
Like skewed binary,
Where one and one make zero.
Embrace the perfect circle of us.
Everything and nothing all at once.
Always have been, always will be; my hero.
Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 5:55 AM UTC
Have I ever had
an original thought?
I've been told
that, 'Everything we ever
write is just an accumulation
of all we've ever read,'
or something
like that.
I don't remember
by who, but I've cited him
Chicago Style
in my heart.
It started young, with my name.
Permanent ink on the soul,
a cliche. I hated
hearing it,
over used and
haphazardly
picked out of
a book.
If I have children,
they won't suffer from recycled
personality disorder. I'll
start them off right,
give them names
that don't
exist yet.
One in a sea
of Lindseys. My
post-modernism
lost-cause syndrome
in itself
is unoriginal.
How can I write
in stream of consciousness
with two decades of
songs stuck in
my head?
This isn't new, I've always
plagiarized while I dreamt
of you, hallucinated
my creativity, now I can't
even picture you without
sappy lyrics
sticking to your
clothes.
I am merely stealing like
an artist, another concept
I stole, brilliant,
but don't
thank me.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
the wrong atmospherics of transmission
move in uninvestigated chaotic archives
red and pink turbulent storms swarm across
deep space frequencies in imaginative
currents of pulsars
that are translated into phases
each represented in diverse
conflicting modes of expression
in obsessive grooves of consciousness
cut up components of recycled narratives
audibly fixating on vibrations
that sound across the universe
in diffused spirals of manic fluctuations
converting archaic symbols into equivalents
of dust surfaces that oxidise in intermittent epochs
and deposit a rediscovered earth
an expansive transferable construction
of accidental providence
that allows for expression in artificially generated realities
hallucinated images that float
across the consciousness of the cosmos
producing visions that punctuate rational thought
become preoccupied with the conception
of interplanetary transpeciation
counting the chronological diversity
of those that occupy the black, blank
vacuum of space
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
See, first, the letter. The world is passing Streptium
paint painting and Walker, obesity will become effective
on the face of the earth beneath the snake Hallucinated
Blackburn Mountain Snake: Preferred name: World
Health Bath Last dying character, Mark has some eye
injury of Guardia that is not completely empty. Jack,
the money machine, the broken license, starts the area
in the income group, planet ***** drunk, smell, killed.
The general high monster is hiding a high birth,
Marcus began to get wet with a gun until a stupid cat,
chubby, gypsy, a vehicle, young, stripper, white, fresh,
********** people smoking. buried in the corner, in the
place where the sermon of the case is found, was sent
by the wife of another and washes, Decapante Hills,
where the thing is; when they came to the desert, in
the image, then I will cut myself off in the middle of
the burning, put it to meet the holy God, and delivered
the ghost the youngest to the hole where is the base
out of this world full of cold Pyihonissam that I
wanted, I'm a **** sign of change, lately it's on the
board with the bars, T, along with the home name of -a
is he who should be reduced from, not meat had been
the highest in Georgia, Mark, a very thin dish
of infected and had brought it to the table
and in book 1 you can love. The police removed
the ark from the flames in the city. Ladies, some guys
to talk about what is absolutely dance and cartoonists
while talking, children, mom eating prostitutes
who may be against our sister repeatedly choosing
a prize for rejected games.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
It is a replicable dialectic
that swirls in my mind
like a spiral of cigarette smoke
covering fluctuations
of diffused expanses
of transferable hallucinated images
relying on an artificial artificiality
to generate a reality
one that amplifies a calisthenics
of maximized reduction
in the blank vacuum of space
allows those sophistication’s
where there is a scrutiny
of exclusions
that may perhaps betray
the concepts of others
those correlatives
of our own creative interirority
where a mind may repeal a transgression
for it is breakfast in the time
of the Wizard Pig
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
there is heard an amplified distinction of sounds
smells of accelerated inner vertigo
a feeling of immanent death
the distillation of blood stains on the sheets
an impulse of volatilized emotion
that generates a different vocabulary
creates a fixation with a considered state
of inner concerns, entertains other dimensions
discovers with sinister undertones
that one is a figment, yes a figment
of someone else’s imagination
that you are a a fascinated but unfortunate escape
from a brutal insensitivity that sustains a mind
that teeters at the jagged edges of the world
for is it you… are is it who, an hallucinated perception
of the I, the we, the them and the me
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
The first time I saw you. I had to remember it.
That was something I couldn’t see just once.
When we first kissed, was when I first became fully aware.
I wanted to run out into the rain barefoot, and scream your name until I’d squeezed every possible ounce of meaning that could be derived from the utterance of those syllables
Out into the weeping sky.
but It wasn't raining that day.
The last time I saw you, I was fairly certain I had hallucinated it.
You ever see something that’s been a reoccurring dream of yours for several years manifest itself right before your eyes?
I dream so much it’s hard to believe in anything anymore.
The last time you saw me…
I don’t know if you ever saw me.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
Are you the catalyst?
Are you my muse?
My master?
My Shaman?
My guide?
Or some drifter who sparked something
Dead in me...
Too dormant to pry from
The floorboards by myself
I would've never seen
What I could be if you
Didn't light the match
You were,
Are,
Will be,
my hidden passion
Inspired if you only did
what I was asking
We could somehow,
Still be
Now the tables turned
If only you could deal with me
You were my peer
Yet my professor
Froze any lessons Into lectures
Pressure is setting in
Hope you know I'll always be
Your biggest fan
Flat characters in a bad romance
I coulda wrote
with half my wit tied
behind my back
Doesn't make this any less real
The ritual thins the veil
Please tell me
you can feel ...
This
Whatever IT even is
Are you my mystic ?
Or my mediator ?
My handler ?
Or myself ?
Displayed on a face
I've hallucinated
Just to keep me company
Yet you reply
And react
as if you were made to
Maybe your the simulation
Or were tailor made to
make me whole
I dunno...
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 4:41 PM UTC
Today I felt something
something so beautiful,
something so angelic
something so divine
something so cosmic
like it came right from the shrine
Today i felt the drops,
yes,they were the raindrops,
no matter how they are welcomed
welcomed with thunders,
they still continue to be tiny
pretty,little drops
As i heard the lightning,
i rushed outside,
and just how beautifully,
a few accumulated drops
fell from the roof.
that tipper - tapper ,
no jagger
slowly fell on the railing.
I just noticed their
speed,
how slow yet so fast
I almost hallucinated
I could see them as a distorted man,sick of troubles of life
falling from the rooftop
and just when he collides with the railings.
he gushes down,so down
that he eventually
bids adieu , the final adieu .
Even before I could soak it in,
i was thinking that drop,the tiny
drop beared my weight
and it fell and then mixed
with the almost flood water.
Rainwater,pure,angelic.
Now dangerous and muddy and impure.
The drop didn't have any idea,where its taking itself
still it dropped down,and when it fell,
the others decided to lose themselves too.
then the other.
and then the next.
My mind went a million miles away
but what it felt on my palm.
that purity & coolness,I felt cold.
suddenly,they fell with
such a rush,
and touched me,
it got disturbed
into a hundred other
small droplets,some fell on my face
blurring my glasses ...
and wetting my
face and hand,
the cool drops now made me warm.
so warm that the chill
could no longer be felt.
I could relax.
I have always hater rains,
like they were always a pain,
i don't know why?
but today felt like something else.
but eventually after,giving me a moment of surprise and joy.
it finally decided to die.
how sad?
how negative?
how negative could my
interpretations get??
i ponder why?
................................
........................
...............
.......
...
Still WONDERING.
oh dear, sigh !!
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
Warning:
You are paralyzed by the hallucinated demise
Stimulated by the distortion of
Your mental reality highlighted with opportunities
To amend your insecurity with your body.
Now is the time to revise your sighs into War Cries.
Recognize. End it. Rebirth your mind.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
Strange ineluctable rhythms have gradually and patiently entered my thoughts
Like a gradual orchestral cadence of soft melody subtly wisping around my whole being
They scamper in my blood become inseparable and live in me
Flocks of hallucinated concepts
I become possessed of ever changing moods
The catatonic calm
The delirious frenzy
The ungovernable mania
My pleas, my questions, are ignored
I live
In wondrous chaos
In disturbed turbulence
In manic colors
In the the Darwinianism of shapes
I experience a feeling of high elation
A complicity in my adopted position
Intoxicated by the prospect of my duality.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC