Oh young barret of the night. Who steals from the dreams of lost sain children like Moloch. The decrypted white house was nothing but A sanctuary for degenerates. the man… MAD… MAD was the man MAD, was the house, MAD were the claimers, MAD were the slaves to the slick but king of so called glam MAD was the man MAD MAD MAD.
           The barret was entering the house, leaving behind all. what has become of my young love asks me? he enters. MAD was he who entered the trap, MAD was he who allowed, MAD was who gave no warning of the moloch sacrifice being made to the two of his so called servants. MAD was all i say MAD MAD MAD, MAD was he who wanted to be hailed like Fernand, MAD was he who wanted to be king like Henry the 8th, MAD was he who wanted to use like Baron Neuvillette, MAD was he who wanted doll oh doll how can you do this.
          Oh ADONAL for if you do exist why have you allowed this, oh ADONAL for if you exist why have you for seen this, oh ADONAl for if you exist why have you told of my eternity. Oh ADONAL why? are you mad? for the people shall not say oh ADONAL well this blow over as fast as Holly or as fast of yourself.
        he who does as told, he who does what he thinks right for his so called gift. MAD for the betrayal of trust between the packed, MAD was he for the lack of word, Like a mute oh ADONAL like a mute he was! MAD was he who acted like Bromdens father, MAD .
      MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD is I for the envolvment of my cellar of time, MAD is I for what i have started and what have become of my creations, MAD is I for all, MAD is I for you, for she, for he, for *****, all mad, MAD is I for maybe i is mad.
                                                            ­                      written by Keone L Friesian. copyright to Keone Friesian

I am mad that work is toilsome.
I am mad that I do stupid things.
I am mad at ignorance.

I am mad that my back hurts.
I am mad at money.
I am mad at anxiety.

I am mad that rest is exhausting.
I am mad that I can't sleep through the night.
I am mad at my clouded mind.

I am mad that breathing and touching are dangerous.
I am mad at being told where and when I can go.
I am mad that people are sick.

I am mad that so much bad has happened.
I am mad because I am lonely.
I am mad at pride.

I am mad that social media gets me bent out of shape.
I am mad that we don't agree.
I am mad at fear.

I am mad that we hurt each other so much.
I am mad that I cry.
I am mad that I get so sad.

I am mad that depression captures me.
I am mad that I fail.
I am mad that I care what people think.

I am so mad about so much
but Jesus is still patient with me.

Somebody says everybody else is mad
Then somebody must be mad.
If somebody is the only one not mad.
In the land of the mad
A case of mad calling others mad.
But who is really mad?

It is so sad
To see that every one is sad
The truth of the lie is sad.
And if you are not sad
Then it is really sad
We are smiling but happily sad.

Now it is that bad
To say we are mad,
Is totally sad.
To say we are happily sad,
Is not that we are mad.
Remember, somebody must be mad
And the one that is mad
Is the one who says everybody is mad
Not that he's mad
Then who is sadly mad?

Well, he is mad
And I am mad
Cos you are now getting mad.
Still we say we are not mad
But he is mad
How can we all say he is mad?
How can we be sad he is bad?
Wait a minute, are we mad?

I get mad when i think about my last relationship.
I GET MAD WHEN I CANT FIND MY KEYS
I get mad when people drive slow, like they have nowhere to go.
I get mad when i realize racism is still a problem.
I get mad when i have to MAKE UP for the person that was before ME
I get mad when people LIE TO MY FACE.
I get mad when i think of all the betrayal.
I get mad when i think about the dumb decisions i made in my youth
I get mad when people are shocked that i dont have any kids like EVERYBODY IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE KIDS so young!
I get mad when people are surprised at the ****** rate in my city, but they support it through the music.
I actually GET MAD AT THE NEW AGE RAP MUSIC
I get mad when people stare without saying hello!
I get mad when people dont mind their business.
I get mad i mean sooo madd when black people(my people) go against cops for killing our people but they themselves **** OUR PEOPLE.
I get madd when i find out people are deliberately spreading std's
I get mad when i see a child has no HOME TRAINING!
I GET MADD WHEN THE PRICE OF GAS GOES UP!!!!!
I GET MAD WHEN NO ONE LEADS THE YOUTH BY SETTING EXAMPLES.
LASTTTT, BUT NOT LEAST
I GET MADDDDDD WHEN I SEE EVERYBODY FORSAKING GOD(THE HIGHER POWER)
SO NOW THAT I'VE LET IT ALL OUT I GUESS I CANT BE MAD ANY LONGER!

I'm not mad I gave you my number.
I'm not mad I tolerated your nonsense.
I'm not mad I asked to watch Elysium with you.
I'm not mad we fell in love.
I'm not mad you helped me look for a flat.
I'm not mad you leaned on my shoulder in the cab.
I'm not mad you swooned me all over.
I'm not mad we fell in love.
I'm not mad we rode my bike to the coast.
I'm not mad we promised to marry there.
I'm not mad we feared the sun set on us.
I'm not mad we fell in love.
I'm not mad our worlds consisted of each other.
I'm not mad our children would have had stupid names.
I'm not mad our bodies were all but untangled.
I'm not mad we fell in love.
I'm not mad you ended it by telephone.
I'm not mad I didn't speak the last time we talked.
I'm not mad our lives won't be the same again.
I'm mad I haven't yet fallen out of love.

I'm mad at the people who think they are God
Who think they can do whatever they want
I'm mad at the people who think they're all that
At the people who lie, or hide behind a hat

I'm mad at the people who judge other people
Who think they can fight, or burn down a steeple
I'm mad at the people who wear gruesome chains
Who curse at their fathers or *******

I'm mad at the people who beat their woman
Who don't care about life, and give up on livin'
I'm mad at the people who make fun and are racist
Who **** and moan and are generally tasteless

I'm mad at the people who are loud and shout
Who ignore everyone, and constantly make out
I'm mad at the people who always sin
Who sit on the side of the road, holding a tin

I'm mad at the people who laugh and cry
Who cheat and double-cross, and maybe even lie
I'm mad at the people who think they can sing
Who mark themselves as Queen or King

I'm mad at those who always want more
Who do stupid things, like gamble and start war
I'm mad at the people who laugh at things like ****
Who will never understand, or never contemplate

I'm mad at the people who don't believe
Who don't stay and enjoy the show, who get up and leave
I'm mad at the people who don't take a stand
Who don't even fight for their own land

I just want a world of quiet, of happiness
A world where everyone is a friend, no such thing as sadness
But with people how they are today, oh so rude
They get on my nerves, and put me in a bad mood

A world of love, a world of peace
Out of this huge puzzle, just one little piece
This is my vision of the world, these are my dreams
But it will  never be, I will never get wish, or so it seems

I'm mad at everyone, at everything
I'm mad at the world, who destroyed my dream

I am mad
Not just mad, I am furious

People all around me lie
And cheat and steal
But worse they judge
And assume, and stereotype
So I am mad

It is the privileged
It is the privileged who judge the most
In their white castles perched on a cliffside
Their ignorance and lackluster
But they say ignorance is bliss
So I am mad

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”
That's what our constitution says
Yet how can these be ours when those who are unaccepted
Those who are thrown out and tossed aside
Are forced to change for those who dominate them
So I am mad

If only
If only every Black, Asian, Native American,
gay, bi, woman, and person could see
That you are who you are
And not who you are told to be
So how am I to accept myself
If a cab driver I once had rolled his eyes at me and made me squirm in my seat
For wearing a pink wig and all black
So I am mad

I am mad
Because I can not be who I am
Because my curly hair is “too frizzy”
Because I respect the rights of others
I am mad

I am mad that I still have to be mad
I am mad
Because there were so many before me,
Yet I still have to be mad
Mad that the blissful ignorance is far too ignorant
Mad that a quiff-haired, white, christian boy tells me that having a pedophilic and sexist man as a president is better for the well-being of all than a woman ever could be
So I am still mad

I will stay mad
Mad at the ignorant
At the arrogant
At the system for changing once proud groups of people
I am mad
And I will forever be mad
Until I can look a KKK member in the eye without feeling like my life is at risk of ending

Mad in my envy.
Mad in the irrational stresses of "love".
Mad at all the happiness I isolate.
Mad with the visions of success.
Mad with my prewar publications.
Mad with your gestures of bliss.
Mad in how we can't get carried away.
Mad at how the money always talks back.
Mad when I am making this a monologue.
Mad when I haven't crossed the minds of
       strangers.
Mad when they declare the eyes of reason to
       be obscene for the children.
Mad at the fame that they call existence.
Mad when I see the lackluster descriptive
       lies within their Bibles.
Mad that you became the society we
       ******.
Mad toward the rebirth of the minister's
       daughter who sang for forgiveness and
       love but lied about both,
Wasting our time on useless Norwich
       sonnets, and naming the theoretical
       infants—
Wouldn't anyone be mad as hell?

II. GENESIS.

Beautiful in your powerful gaze, upgrading
       constantly, tossing me aside, casting
       countless new euphoric darlings into the
       void since my dismissal.

Draining each meaningful vein from the
       poor souls who fall under your magnetic
       pull—who want to brave the human    
       castle (floor lined with pitfalls) and then
       you, *** Incarnate! Most perfect
       amongst us! Blessed be your Godly
       word, you execute them with joy!

Holy in your immaculate beauty, dear Saint!
Now it is your time of reckoning.

Happy Birthday.

Don't forget who made you.

I'm Mad About You.
I'm mad that I'm not with you.
I'm mad that you're younger than me.
And I'm mad that I continue to **** things up.
I'm mad that I chose him and can't get you off my mind.
I'm mad that we cant spend summer together like we promised.
I'm mad that around you I get the spark, but around him its nothing.
I'm mad that I continue not to let my self be happy.
I'm mad that, quite frankly I rather be single.
I'm mad that I'm to good of a person to just leave him.
I'm mad that I never know what I want.
I'm mad that I'm Mad About You.
I'm Mad About You

-
Passing idea
Clusters a spark
a mundane brainstorm  
And as it passes
Through the elastic mind

I wish to sit
At my typewriter

To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before the idea vanishes
Before storm ceases

Mad,
Mad mind

-
Passing idea
space exploded within itself
atomic fusion instigated
The mundane universe
And it expands
Through the elastic space

I wish to sit
At my typewriter

To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before a black-hole
Swallows my universe
to create another one

Mad,
Mad universe

-
Passing idea
Clusters of minds
Until civilizations are fused
Into mundane cultures
And they expand
Through the elastic generations

I wish to sit
At my typewriter

To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before civilization zero
Is both dead and alive
In the schrodinger-like
Transition to civilization one

Mad,
Mad persons

-
Passing idea
Cluster of lonely universes
Until the almighty gravity
Loses its kingdom
To the thought of multiverses
And it expands
Through the elastic kinship

I wish to sit
At my typewriter

To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before multiverses wonder
And discover:
They think, therefore they are.

Mad,
Mad multiverses

-
I am sitting at my typewriter
To capture an idea
whilst thoughts are passing through my cerebral cortex
Perhaps
Someone inside an earth-like neuron in my brain
Is sitting at his typewriter
With a writer’s block
Trying to make sense of the birth of me:
His equivalent of the big bang
a single atom
Giving birth to the energy
That shaped his universe - my cerebrum   

I am sitting at my typewriter
To capture an idea
Whilst the milky-way and Andromeda
Are to cross through a string of light-like gravitational paths  
Perhaps
The conscious of the universe
Ponders my existence
In a form of a passing idea

Mad,
Mad Alireza.

Friends, family, foes, and those of woe,
I invite you to dance this delicate tango with me,
right on the line of reality and fantasy.
It is here, that,
I invite you to the mad tea party.

Now, let us get one or two,
three or four,
maybe ten, one hundred, zero things straight,
you are not to be late to the mad tea party,
you are to set your time straight and do not stray,
but rather show up without delay at the time that serves your mental estate,
at a time that feels right with your bones,
now, now don't miss that time and don't be late.
We are of strict dress code here at the mad tea party.
You are not to wear what you saw on him and she and her and we unless it is of,
suitable expression to your situation,
you are to dress accordingly with your mentality,
nothing else will pass the test.
You are to act accordingly.
Do not laugh when not appropriate, and sit up straight when your spine tells you.
Do not speak when your mind is forced to be spoken.
Now, have we all straight.

I cordially invite you to the mad tea party.
Where we dine and wine and tell tales of time,
and rejoice on the words those delicately spoke,
and dance on the lines theatrically strewn across the room,
and sail across every last tale from you and he and yeah her over there too.
I invite you to the mad tea party.

I invite you tell of when you first saw the earth breath,
when the trees and the leaves set to dancing,
when you first heard the wind laugh at your grin,
and when the raindrops ran fearfully from the erupting sky.
I demand of you to tell nothing but that of truth,
and watch as the molecules in the air take to vibrating.
Take notice to musical clinking of the entities amidst you,
and take pride in the gentle stride of the clouds overhead.
Did you notice the flowers laughing at you,
in between the birth, death and rebirth in accordance with the sun?
Did you notice the flowers pull in their petals as they shyed from your step?
Take notice to the music and laughter around you at the mad tea party,
take great care with the feelings floating about the air, vulnerably buzzing from mind to mind,
before their decline and descent to rest their heads.


You see, it is here at the great mad tea party,
that we do not devoid you of the ability to do as your energy demands,
with the issues of time and dress and proper behavior.
It is here that we tend to focus on the earth and the breathing of the molecules and atoms  around you,
it is here that we go mad.
and it is here that I cordially invite you,
but before you make your reservation, please eliminate all hesitation.
You see the mad tea party is not readily accepted,
by the constraints of society and the binds of reality.
You see the mad tea party is misconstrued by masses more than just a few.
Those who long buried their soul look down on the guests,
for they are different than the rest, in that, they're welcoming,
into their soul the ability to go mad which is taught to be bad.
So before you make your reservation be inexplicably sure,
that you are in fact,
ready, for the mad tea party.

Mad at myself
Mad at myself
Why am I always
so mad at myself?
Cut clients short
time is but a construct but
this is my second or third complainant this week or last week and it’s like I’m impatient and cut their time short always middle-aged blond women maybe I’m projecting maybe I’m not so bad, maybe I’m just tired and lazy and being catty

I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at my actions
Waiting until last minute to register for classes got a way in but it’s becoming a disaster
I’m mad at my actions
I’m mad at myself
I’m no longer a child
on the fucken shelf
that needs to be helped
that needs her hand held
while doing every grown-up step
I’m mad at myself
I’m mad at myself
Mad at myself
At myself
Myself
Self
Elf
Am I an elf?
Why did I **** up?
Why did I **** it up?
Why am I stuck?
Why do I ****?

I can salvage it all
I can stop my fucken fall
So ****** I feel
It almost feels unreal
Work and School
I’m stacking
and slacking
I’m procrastinating
and waiting
I’m ******* up
and ******* it up
So mad at myself
So mad at my elf
So mad to be a self on the shelf
of childhood fighting adulthood fighting endless deadlines ending early making my clients ****** and not want to come back because they feel like they don’t matter because I’m cutting their sessions short or running late or taking my sweet **** time, acting like a shorty clown and in grad school I sent all those emails out but then go awol and have so many doubts that I’m making mistakes and failing just a little bit and I don’t get it

Why am I doing this?
Why are they so ******?
Why can’t I shake off my fears and fully fucken get into gear
until I work this work this out
until I forge my life with sound
until this mountain of mourning or sorrow splits like the hilt of a samurai blade splitting grain becoming fits of bulbous rage and it feels like I’ve gotten a bad grade in life not a C or a D but a big fat F

Full of strife
I can’t eat
I can’t sleep
I ****** up
I’m in heat
I’m in love
in my head
and my heart’s
full of dread
I’m upset
I’m aloof
I’m unaware
and a goof
I ****** up
I’m alright
I’ll make it all right
I’ll make it all better
I’ll stop straying off the beaten path
I’ll get wetter
and wetter
so soaked and sloshy I’ll
be okay and forgive myself
I’m no longer mad at myself
No longer mad at myself
I forgive myself
Forgive myself
Myself
Self
Elf

i'm only human don't get mad when you ask for my opinion
i'm only human don't get mad when i wander off
i'm only human don't get mad when i make mistakes
i'm only human don't get mad when i walk away
i'm only human don't get mad when i  turn the other way
im only human dont get mad when i say how i feel
im only human dont get mad when i take time
im only human dont get mad when i do something different
im only human dont get mad when i kiss
im only human don't get mad when  i love
im only human dont get mad when i yell
im only human dont get mad when i think
im only human don't get mad when i drink
i'm only human don't get mad when i stop
im only human don't get mad when i had enough
im only human

I could be mad everyday and maybe I am
But not over the color of your skin
Or why you remember to this very day
I could be mad everyday
But not whether you love a man or a woman
Or whether God made you that way

I could be mad everyday and maybe I will
But not because you crossed the border
Or because my Father came a different way
I could be mad everyday
I know how you hurt on the inside
Because somebody's hate made you feel that way

Sometimes I don’t feel like trying
But I’m not going to let it happen to me
I’m not listening to people who are doing all the lying
They’re not the ones who care why we’re dying

I could be mad everyday and maybe I should be
From trading goats to trading bitcoins
Money has always been the only way
I could be mad everyday
I don’t want to wait for the judge
To avenge us for those who make us pay

We could be mad everyday and maybe we should
Faceless ambitions send our children off to war
Only to be remembered on Memorial day
I could be mad everyday
They squander all our money
And we wonder why nobody makes them pay

Sometimes I don’t feel like trying
But I’m going to smile even though I can’t
I’m listening to the people doing all the lying
But I’m not going to let them make me feel like dying

I could be mad everyday
Because I don’t want to be a fool
They know I’m not playing their game
I’m not stealing or selling them my name

We could be mad everyday and maybe some are
They try to teach us how to hate
But I’m not going to be the one to obey
I could be mad everyday
They think we don’t understand
But we do because we don’t listen to what they say

Sometimes I don’t feel like trying
But tonight I think I will
I want to know how to be your brother
And not the way they want us to treat each other

The world makes me mad

Everything makes me mad,
You make me mad,
Everybody else makes me mad,
I make myself mad

Time makes me mad,
There's too little of it
Chores and obligations makes me mad,
There's too much of it

Life makes me mad,
You got things set up right in front of you,
But it's hard to change course from normality

This all makes me mad,
So I'm basically wasting my time being mad,
Leaving no time left to make myself happy...

Isn't it sad?
And you know what?
That makes me more mad than anything else...

On the good days, the words flutter around like butterflies waiting patiently to be choosen.  Other days, the dark uncertain times, they swarm you like hornets, stinging you over and over again.  Making the words fall from your eyes like tears splashing onto the page. You can avoid the whole thing,  by being normal, choose the hallmark life, pre-made and hollow love, never know mad love, never go crazy.  Live  the easy life, never risk anything, stay far far away from the edge.  If you want to call that living.  Bee bites and butterfly kisses, you can't just choose one, you have to live with them both.  The light wings of love and the swollen  eyes and hands from the stingers in your heart and soul... That's my life, the life I want at least... sleeping in the mouth of madness.  Somedays... it hurts, painful heart-wrenching hurt, Somedays its just so ******* beautiful all you do is weep at being alive to witness it.  Beautiful pain and heart breaking love... mad mad love.  How's that song go...

"You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me"

Is that the stones...No Joel you say, so you've heard it... but did you really listen, down in your gut far down below your ears.  See that's one of the problems of the easy life, they don't teach you to listen, really listen where it matters.  Deep down in your dark belly full of demons and monsters and devils, where all the do is listen and if you let them... they turn it all into mad love to keep you alive, really alive.  Not that fake life so many people are so desperate to live.  Every one so ******  afraid of letting a little pain or misery into their lives, all just wanting to be "happy".  Never learning or realizing what they end up missing out on.  A miserable life, there's a secret to it that they won't share with you.  To be miserable, truely  miserable... you have to be touched at least once, just once, by mad crazy stark raving lunatic mad love.  You have to have danced in the mountains of madness for just a second.  And that single touch and that single moment of dancing there among the lunatics of love... that kind of love, never leaves you.  It shoots straight to the marrow of your bones, the bottom of your bottomless heart, soaks into the darkness in the depths of your soul.  It may not stay in your arms or your bed, it may not last as long as it promised or you wanted... but it never just flat out leaves you.  It stays... after every other fire burns out, after every star falls from the sky, after the moon and sun commit their last act of love for each other and both drink each others poison, when the whole of existence just "poofs" and dissappears... That mad love will still be there.  And all those lucky lunatics who went mad and loved crazy will have it all to themselves... MmmHmmm, nothing but that Madness and love.  What a god forsaken beautiful **** fest of an **** that's going to be... just madness and love free from all the other *******, going at it like a couple of teens who just discovered the ability to ******.  And misery knows it, misey hates it.  Because misery can bend you over in a dark alley and take you by force... but misery goes away at just the hope of love, in the presence of love its nothing more than a mist and a ghost.  It might whisper to you behind loves back... but never face to face with love.  Misery is one of the merchants peddling the easy life with the pre-made hollow love and ideal of a happy safe life far away from that scary forbidden edge.  Don't fall for it... find your reason to go mad, find your passenger to drive laughing over the edge with.  Embrace your lunatic and fill your heart and your life with that mad mad love.  Be your miserable ******* self to the core and bitter end... if you need me, you can find me at the mouth of madness, just listen, you'll hear me singing, horribly and off key and out of tune, you can hear me singing to the moon.  You may not belive it, I know it sounds crazy... but baby your the one that saved me.  I'll be waiting here in this mad mad love you gave me... nothing beautiful left in this life for me to do... Thank you... I hope you know I love you.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak of their lovers lips and how those lovers collar bones curve perfectly so you may drink from it.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can speak about bones and how they can dance through your skin to reveal you are weak,frail nothing but fragile memories.

Poets are mad,crazy because in a pub full of people a single leaf that may try to escape winter would catch their eye.

Poets are mad,crazy because even in their sleep words swirl and dent themselves in their minds.

Poets are mad,crazy because whenever the wind blows,whenever the lips of someone loved moves they un code them and wrap them round their lungs.

Pets are mad,crazy because they cannot breathe without a pen,or a computer calling softly to them.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about things they have never experienced but still they come out like coins of silver.

Poets are mad,crazy because they can write about cemeteries and how ghostly streets  can be on the 26th of december.

Poets are mad crazy,because someone mere may just see the sun as a yellow piece hovering above,but they see it as a golden orb that signifies all life and love.

Poets are mad,crazy because no matter what they go through,no matter what they lose,no matter who they meet and what they experience,words will always be their first lovers and first friends.

He always smiled before he went mad
She loved him like crazy before he went mad
He lived life wild before he went mad
They worked on a baby before he went mad
He had motivation before he went mad
He thought they would make it until he went mad
All the nights they spent naked until he mad
She went on vacation and then he went mad
They grew farther then he went mad
She said he wasn't the father and went mad
No more smiles only blank
No more love only lust
No more faith no more trust
No more sun no more clouds
No more light no more stars
She won

He fell down a rabbit hole,
chasing after a crazy dream

He met a rabbit with a waistcoat.
He braved the Red Queen.
He had tea with a caterpillar.
He spoke with talking flowers.

He faced his worst nightmares,
and he lived to tell the tale.

And eventually he crawled back out,
ready to face the world.

But no one believed him.
The more he told,
the more he was scorned.

And he drew farther and farther into himself,
comforting himself with stories and talking flowers,
and a rabbit in a waistcoat.

Soon that was all he had left,
stories and fantasies.

Until one day he plunged back through the rabbit hole,
grasping for a crazy dream.

There he learned the trade of making hats,
but he soon surpassed his masters and peers.

Once again he was scorned,
and he  relocated to an old house with two other outcasts,
making hats and drinking tea to fill his time.

He retreated into himself once again,
this time literally becoming as mad as a hatter,
and this became his title.

And soon no one remembered his true name,
knowing only that was mad,
until his title became his name: the Mad Hatter.

Only one ever tried to know why he was mad,
and her name was Alice.

And in her presence,
he found himself, though still quite mad, less mad.

He even found that he liked it,
though he never let his other mad companions know that.

But she, too, fell back through the rabbit hole,
and he was alone,
with only fantasies and madmen to keep him company.

Until one day many years later he found a woman, wandering,
mumbling about talking flowers and rabbits with waistcoats,
almost as mad as himself.

And her name, he found, was Alice,
and in each other’s presence they found, though they were still quite mad,
they were decidedly less so.

And they found they liked it.

Shut up for once, with your arguments about how I'm not listening. I feel as if all I ever do is listen. You shouldn't assume things about me, you don't know me the way you think you do. You don't know me. I'm thinking about things that should make me cry, but they seem right for now. They seem good to think about. I will cry and whine and scream about being alone, but this is not an invitation to console me. No, I believe that the urge for you is long gone. You're upset, I cradle I adore I try to help. I'm hurt, and you open the message and drop off the face of the earth. RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAG. Please, stop acting as if I'm hurting you. Stop pretending that I'm the bad guy. Guess what? I have a right to feel this way. "My past" you offer when I'm mad at you. "My past makes me feel this way." But if I ever? Oh, ** **! If I dare use that? "don't use your past as an excuse to be a ****** person." You may have gone through some hard ****, Frenchie. But so did I. But you wouldn't know that, would you? OH, SURE! You know about my grandfather, who doesn't? What else? Do you know anything else? Of course not. Not much, not that I remember just yet. Why's that? why don't you know? Because I've come to realize that talking to you is near pointless.
  But you wouldn't get that, right? Even if I wrote novels upon novels, trying to let you get me, begging for you to read, you wouldn't get it. You call me close-minded all of the time. "you'd make a terrible president." Remember? I do. I try to remember everything. Just so I make sure not to make mistakes. You call me close-minded, and yet the moment anything I should/try to talk about is brought up, you disappear. But then you get mad at me for not being able to open up... hmm. I reckon it's my past, yes? I think that maybe it's my past, Sydney. OH? But you'd understand this, hm? HA! AS IF. As if you'd ******* care as if you ******* care. "You know I care about you more than I probably should, right?" Shut up.  You don't care. I know you don't. (my my my, you sound toxic, J) IM ******! ****** AND HURT! AND ALONE! OH? You're drunk, aren't you? Haven't you been? Your friends said so, the ones you've kissed, the ones you've kissed! Drunk, drunk, drunk, they message me, you in the background on your phone. Drinking, drinking drinking, smoke a bowl or seven, and who knows what else? Perhaps a massive ****, right? With your friends that you've kissed before. I'd know, I have the videos of it. But if I even mention someone I've kissed, what do you do? Blank face, play "****** on my mind" until the guilt makes me shut up, smile, change the subject. OH! The friends you've kissed, the friends you've kissed, the friends you've kissed, they text back so easily, I just wanted to see how your day was, how did you sleep, I just want to love you. Don't act like you're the victim here, don't ******* act like this. I asked how your day was, I asked how your day was, I only wanted to know how your ******* day was! Why is it that you leave me on seen? I asked how your day was, how did you sleep? "I'm with friends." "oh, I'm sorry love, I love you, stay safe." hm? and then what? opened 12 hours ago. I said I loved you I said I loved you I said I loved you. So why is it that when I post on my story about watching Twilight because I'm lonely, mostly a joke, halfway true, you're mad? Am I not allowed to feel alone, with the "opened 12 hours ago" sign blinking, screaming, at me, blinding me with its neon talons when it takes flight into dearest memory lane? Oh! MY EYES! THEY TEAR MY EYES, MY EYES! I'M BLIND! I'm BLEEDING! WILL I EVER SEE?
   Am I not allowed to feel that way? Am I not allowed to feel? a l o n e? Is that it? How is it that you can message me from your other account, what are you doing on there? You have another account, what do you do there? Oh, I sound toxic. It's my past, Sydney, it's my past!! Ha! WHY ARE YOU MAD AT ME BEING ALONE! Tell me, I've forgotten, are feelings not allowed? I think that I remember that part of my past, don't feel things. Punish them, punish me, yes? Ignore me for a while, I spoke out against you. IM SORRY JUSTIN IM SORRY JUSTIN I AM SORRY!
   I think you forget that I'm often alone, so why is it that you're mad at me? I'm alone with these thoughts, thoughts like people in a crowd, I sit in the corner, but I know they're all talking about me. Oh, I am alone. With these people who offer to help. HOW DARE THEY? I swat away their hand. ******* ******* *******! You don't know me. you don't know me. YOU CAN'T HELP ME! I'm alone. "I'm always here for you." I know it's wrong of me to believe you, I need you often, there's something wrong with me. Maybe it's my past, hm, maybe it's my past. Sometimes I can't breathe in enough air, I gasp, my lungs fill, my body expands, yet it is not enough. I can't breathe enough, I'm not breathing enough, DONT PANIC DONT PANIC DONT PANIC! ****! Crazy ***** is going through another episode, give them more pills. I CAN'T GO BACK TO THAT PLACE, OH THEY SCREAM TOO MUCH! Why are you mad? Why are you mad at me? What did I do? Did I feel wrong?
  Are you mad? At? Me? For being? Alone? When it is you that's left me. You decided to stop responding, give up, give in, move along with your day. My days aren't as productive. I'm nothing, just a lazy ***, my father says. (having your rights debated is always a fun exercise.) You get angry so often, I shouldn't feel this way? I SHOULDN'T FEEL LIKE THIS! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT "THIS" IS! As ******' if you'd get what's going on in my head, yes? Hell, Sydney, you hardly know what's going on in your head, right? But let me help you, yeah? Like you want? Like you need me to? Like you ask me to and then get mad if I can't, right? Am I right? Am I right? Am I right?
  Tell me, why'd you only ever call me when you're high?
  OH! IS IT SO HARD TO TEXT ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY? Shut up, J, she's not obligated to text you. Now you're just being silly. I leave you on seen for a minute, right? So then you ******* up, and then your mood switches and you get mad at me. OH ** **! You leave for half a day, and then more because now I reckon we aren't on talking terms, at least not on my side for a while. After all, now I need to think and make a decision, and then have the audacity to be mad at me because I feel.. a l o n e? Excuse me. EXCUSE ME EXCUSE ME EXCUSE ME! IT'S PART OF MY PAST HAH! Shut up, I hate that excuse of yours. Do you remember? "Stop using your mental illnesses as an excuse for being a ****** person" do you remember that? I do. Guess what? I can. I CAN USE THEM AS AN EXCUSE, IT LITERALLY IS AN EXCUSE, I CANNOT HELP HOW I FEEL! I CANNOT HELP HOW I FEEL! I CANNOT HELP hOW I FEEL! I feel things! Different from what you do, they do, anyone does. I FEEL .. OTHER! THINGS!..as if you'd get that, yes? I'm lonely. I'm "utterly" alone, as I often am, BUT WHY! WHY ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME FEEL AWFUL FOR IT? I can't feel things without you getting so upset at me. My mental state is ****, oh but you never see it do you? Years of practice, my love. And yet you claim to be able to read me, yes? I hate you. I do, my darling, I despise you. You sicken me, give me a kiss, yeah?
  "You don't deserve words." someone told me today. It wouldn't have bothered me on any other occasion,  I would have laughed it off and gave a smart *** return, but now? Now it's cutting my arms. Oh, ** **! is it? I'm against the bed, "IT'S ALIVE IT'S ALIVE!" It isn't. It has my hands tied, and I'm naked- minus the face of absolute horror and fear. OH? Is it you who wields the blade? No, though I wouldn't be surprised if it were. Nathan does, he holds this dagger against my neck. Don't deserve words, does that mean I don't deserve to talk? Or don't deserve to hear? Regardless, my neck is slit, and he plays with my vocal cords. STRUM STRUM, VIBRATO! Whammy bar, buuurruuruuhhhh! The flesh of my wrists then split from the strings of sound, muscles move underneath, he pokes them and they recoil, I flex and we stare in aw. A third arm reaches from my hand, dropping a heart that it picked up along the way onto my chest, I choke on the length of said arm, I cry, but it's too late, the blood is internal. It grabs an arm, and suddenly I'm tearing myself apart. I become a fish, I strip myself of useless skin! OH? because I DON'T DESERVE WORDS. and yet I feel like I should tell everyone else words all of the time. Chatterbox! Wow, don't I talk way too much!
  WHY AM I TYPING? WHY HAVEN'T YOU APOLOGIZED. Perhaps it is I who is in the wrong, though, yes? You're with friends you're with friends you're with friends. So I should calm down, but that doesn't make feeling alone any less lonely, I'm alone, I'm alone, I'm ALONE. And I think that maybe I'm allowed to be. because it's lonely. when you've been left on opened 12 hours ago.

The calm wind,
strokes the ****.
The world drives,
the primes and hives,
of mad and trance.

The numb toes,
mounted moles.
The world drives,
the time and halves,
of mad and trance.

The chaos one,
does not know.
The world drives,
the wars and tyranny,
of mad and trance.

The feel of alive,
a touch of humanity.
The world drives,
justice of the immortals,
of mad and trance.

Peasants and pennies,
the drop of dime.
The world drives,
waters and commotions,
of mad and trance.

The fire in the alleyway,
burns the broomstick.
The world drives,
the dead and sad witches,
of mad and trance.

The bohemian ode,
nympomanics and satyriasis,
The world drives,
the desires and passions,
of mad and trance.

The sainted troops,
stalks, mocks, traps.
The world drives,
the obedience of lies,
in the mad and trance.

“Are you mad at me?”
Stare at the words. Will asking make it worse?
“Are you mad at me?”
Press send. Or delete.
“Are you mad at me?”
............... Send. Sent. Now to wait.
“Are you mad at me?”
It’s been ten minutes. Has it been seen yet?
No.
Anxiety.
“Are you mad at me?”
30 minutes. What about now?
No.
Anxiety. My chest feels tight and...
breathe.
“Are you mad at me?”
It’s been 45 minutes. Surely by now...
No.
Something large has taken up residence in my rib cage and it’s hard to breathe. My anxiety has been joined by doubt and self hate.
“Are you mad at me?”
They’re ignoring me. I know it. They know what this does to me. They know.
“Are you mad at me?”
1 hour.
My skin itches and crawls. My nails demand blood as they scratch. The weight in my chest has turned violent.
“Are you mad at me?”
1 hour. 30 minutes.
My heart is trying to escape the storm within and I can feel it banging on my ribs demanding exit. They’re ignoring me. But what did I do?
“Are you mad at me?”
Does the punishment fit the crime?

I’m mad because nothing is changing
I’m mad because you were left hanging
I’m mad because of the tears on your face
And your smile once again glued in place

I’m mad because there’s nothing I can do
I’m mad because I don’t know if it’s true
I’m mad because she jerks you around
And I can’t make a sound

I’m mad because you’re not
I’m mad because you “forgot”
I’m mad because of the lies
And because you’re breaking the ties