You're watching, judging, and assuming
You don't understand why I do what I do.
Why I obsess over little things.
So stop trying to
The world is my oyster
But without the beautiful pearl
Just a plain old shell, in a plain old world
It's a shame you'll never know the brilliance
All you're capable to understand is the madness.
Heart, or brain
Ferocious , tame
Take two breaths and stop breathing all together.
Turn your self to useless energy, forever.
Welcome to mind of the mad.
The queen of the asylum
A dapper old castle in the brain of a girl.
Who is tortured yet pampered in her own little world.
my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
the mind is its own beautiful prisoner.
Mind looked long at the sticky moon
opening in dusk her new wings
then decently hanged himself,one afternoon.
The last thing he saw was you
naked amid unnaked things,
your flesh,a succinct wandlike animal,
a little strolling with the futile purr
of blood;your sex squeaked like a billiard-cue
chalking itself,as not to make an error,
with twists spontaneously methodical.
He suddenly tasted worms windows and roses
he laughed,and closed his eyes as a girl closes
her left hand upon a mirror.
Thoughts inside the head,
to who they belong?
Hard decisions to take,
am i really here all alone?
Leaded, controlled, left alone,
confusion, what's your song?
Who are you for real?
Come out from that dream.
Is it me being you or just you being me?
The monsters offer comfort.
The nightmare is my home.
Where many would be scared,
I find I’m not alone.
The shadows that surround,
Do not engage my fright.
Where most long for the day,
I embrace the night.
What many think is normal,
Is what scares me most.
Not vampires or werewolves.
Not even witches or ghosts.
I find it fascinating,
Eccentric and unique,
But most would find it strange,
And say that I’m a freak.
I still love the spooky,
The creepy and the weird.
What most find terrifying,
And are considered feared,
But who’s to say what’s normal?
Who’s to say what’s sane?
It’s my imagination,
The world inside my brain.
The goblins and the ghouls,
The zombies and the fiend,
Cavort within my morbid mind,
Like a sick and twisted dream.
That’s what makes this monster grin,
Make no obfuscation,
This dark and gloomy soul of mind.
My macabre imagination.