"psychoses" poems
My mind wanders continuously
To and from the hear and now
Seemingly
I don’t pay attention to what you say
Not true
I do, in a way
But thank you for talking at me
When you thought I couldn’t hear
Because the rhythm of your psychoses wears upon my soul
Weathering me
Not like the sapphire waves beating on a jagged coastline wearing a mighty cliff into the humblest grain of sand
Or anything quite that dramatic
More like the way subtle occurrences can effect ones perception so powerfully
And while I’m floating along
From one island of idea to another
I’m tethered to reality
By the ironic lifeline of your madness.
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 1:51 AM UTC
Shadows dancing on the walls
sitting in my new apartment
one candle lit
Perfect symphony
flame and wind
a show of passion and freedom
Gods of the two dimensional world
Shadows dancing on the walls
ballet of dread
shadows of bloodsplatters
ripped muscles, hair
limbs fly freely in the air
a witness to a ****** scene
Shadows dancing on the walls
distorted figures
a show of psychoses
Gods gather on the walls
they give me instructions
a witness of the divine
Shadows dancing on the walls
they suddenly stand up
a show of intervention
the shadows whisper:'we are you'
I respond:'true, I'm me'
the shadows vanish
a witness of self acceptance
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
**28:
My one year-old laughter:**
*(I still hear
what God said
when
she
spoke,
to me first;
that sound,
they tell me,
was my mother,
I remember
what God told me
when
she
held me first:
You are too young to be your own personal horror)*
**34.
What I know as a nine year-old:**
9/11 means
quiet,
and
**look at my feet standing
on the solid fertile Earth** and
be more quiet than the ground is quiet
don't point at Isabelle's mom because she is skinny like fence wire
don't stare at Jake when he gets limp and speaks like a broken dog
42:
my twenty year-old morbidity,
minor self-inflicted injuries,
invented and self-sustained psychoses,
drink; drinking the whole thing;
i'm going to make myself red inside;
i am the fire, they said, and burned, all of us burned, and they said this was love.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
Light up a smoke
Start to cry
Relapse just enough
Rewrite your reality
Present a better narrative
Take stock of your surroundings;
Friends, lovers, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, memories, psychoses, vices, recurring nightmares, moments of brilliance
Words that keep bleeding no matter how many times you write them down
People that keep calling no matter how many times you change your name
Spirits that cling to skin, absence of escape routes, confessions that never solidify into repentance, apologies that never pass through lips,
Heretic heart burning vicious under black sky
Bones aching for the weight of mourning
Take a breath
Stop freaking out
Keep your sense of humor
Give it teeth and let it draw blood
Dig yourself out
Kiss your lover
Kiss your friends
Kiss the sunrise as she relieves you of burden
Find the furthest corners of your mind
Keep a candle lit to view the writing left on the walls there
Take photographs of each moment in the event you find yourself missing it someday
Release yourself shamelessly into the night
Reinvent your language
Speak over people when they stop respecting your voice
Bleed it out bleed it out bleed it out
Fill your page
Fill your lungs
It will be enough someday
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC
I like
The way I smell like you
When I wear your clothes
The inconvenient plant on Tess' table
And the haunted laundry room at Jess'
(The ghost, we've named him Steve)
I can always be safe, if I want to
When I'm around the two of you
And Tess is always catching me from just around the bend of sanity
When I think that I don't know why I'm slipping
Because I think she knows much more than she lets on
About losing to your dark psychoses
But Jess keeps me in touch,
And I really love her for it,
With her dreams and wishes and driving lessons
And her bold vegan ways in a place that is so unfriendly
Sometimes when I'm alone at home and
Cabin fever is much too catching
I'll talk to them and it dissipates so easily
(like gentle mist)
Aside from their assistance, they are beautiful
Their minds are whirling marvels,
And they make me laugh
At awkward intervals
When everyone else in the room is trying
Oh-so-hard to wear austerity
But I am never ashamed
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
Travelling higher than God through my former wasteland
Skyline was littered with star spangled pariahs
and the Earth swallowed the bones of the believers
And for the street youth, burning rage into their skin and choking the ashes down for supper they left no shelter
These are the spirits that sing your soulless chorus
These are the ghosts that bear your unborn demons in utero
These are the convicts that kneel humbled outside your door, crossing themselves in fervor every time you walk past
These are the junkies that sketch your morbid admiration in dull sidewalk chalk
These are the con men that pace restless across your bitter heart
And these are the children you lead to ruin, baptized by filth and fury
Wasteland, I gave you my youth
The screams of the lovers I buried with you haunt me still
Though the cathedral of the ghosts I made has long since emptied
My brothers, my sisters, my dearly departed psychoses
For you all I will return, a martyred liar,
Crucify me atop the graveyard of my artwork
And paint shades of vivid gray with my ashes
Wasteland, I've given you all and now I'm nothing
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
Spider on the wall in a shower stall
Immobilized
Skeleton to the end, a somber mule
Beast of burden
Each successive time I claim
I'm in a balanced state
Surprise!
Psychoses.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
All things are holy and nothing is sacred
The psychoses, the diagnosis, the manic-depressive war, the acid PTSD flashbacks, the track marked arms, the scabbed over burn scars, the crisis hotline voices reverberating ceaseless from the walls of the skull to the gravestone that reads
WHY! WHY! WHY!
Father, President, Congressman, Representative, I have looked on the faces of your human annihilation and counted not an innocent man among the lot
Holy terror for the white supremacists in their gilded tombs!
They boiled their brains in the mustard gas ovens and voted for the Tea Party!
I am missing the connection at some base level and it is irreparable
There isn't **** to be done about it now
I used to love this, I don't know what happened
I lied to myself just to get a reaction and I felt nothing for the first time in my life
So plaster my name on your movement and take my face for your martyr
I don't have the strength to argue anymore
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
High tide
May, warm sunlight, mild breeze and under
a parasol casts a cooling shade.
The hum of insect
A barking dog
White clouds on blue velvet
The peace is restless a sense of danger
the big powers have been banging on their war drums
conditioning us
we are being groomed for war
It is like psychoses, we want war now
fight for the fatherland against an enemy not defined
the noble death
The song contest in Europe has done a coup, but it
Is not enough
Two jet fighters streak across the sky they are flying low
piloted by flinty eyes.
Perhaps the coming war is a natural progression
a bloodletting that happens in regular intervals
nothing can be done like Thor's hammer it strikes
when it want to
evening now grass are asleep
the shade has become night
we can't but wait
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 3:45 AM UTC
How can I live brain damaged and disfigured like the lights seeping in through the walls don't trigger frightening synesthetic psychoses that exile my mind from the pinnacle of this oasis to the furthest borders of the existential void?
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 7:24 AM UTC