The dissociated brain

Have you ever felt
inside out?
Backwards and forth
like someone else.
Ever looked at him
and thought that is me
felt the utter horror
of not existing
replace all your thoughts
with what his could be?
Just have to shake it off
no point in listening
it’s just your fucking mind
not reality
but this won’t move aside
no it’s meant to be
can’t hold this in sight
I’ve let go of me.
All these symptoms collide
and his face takes over me
he’s just handing me my change
but I’ve become a he
if I don’t break this hold
I might end up in ward b-reality
it chokes on my brains news feed.
I cannot keep up with these
thoughts you see
reality is not something meant to be
it’s quite tiresome you see
I can go a long way just to breathe
but the scenery becomes a bit of paint
and every interaction is unsafe
I may walk away fighting your face
thoughts of living your life in your place-
my reality in space, no memories or piece
of who I might be.
Have you ever lived your life this way?
I have to be aware to stop the pain
exhausted though I am
I will remain.

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diagnosis accepted

I woke up in a world I’ve lost
closed my eyes now down is up
nothing is as what it seems
cloud of smoke and brain disease
mindlessness and stupidity
led by ego and delusional thinking
grandiose but un-diagnosed
at least not properly.

When I went to sleep,
when I laid my bed,
I knew the sky was blue
and blood not the color red
when I was sleeping- dreaming ever sound
my own diagnosis was settling
down, down, down, down, down
but eyes wide open-the world is flat
am I an animal, maybe a cat?

I woke up and the world turned wrong-blinked but once all logic has gone
but if this is healthy-what the fuck is normal?
If this world is stable-how am I diagnosable?

Becoming Queen

Bleeding rust and iron

the vomit of this flesh;

an exposure of insantiy

the lows and highs of

carnival distress,

lights that blind and

cotton candy that ties

those chains that keep her breathing.

Bleeding rust and mirrors

a reflection of what use to be;

a history of violence

lies, and pretty things.

Painting of the eyes a

war brewing underneath.

Take that razor, bloody knife

across that skin a kiss of

white.

Snow on fire, midnight ice

my life on trail

under this artificial light.

Queen of iron

rust for a keeper

a history of violence dead princess beneath her

love can’t undo, not a simple thing,

pretty little lies

bleeding insanity.

This flesh it vomits psychosis galore

delusions unforgettable knocking

on the mirror door.

Bleeding rust and iron

Queen of dead things

a trail by fire and ice

that created royalty

of madness, of torture, of hidden sharp things.

The princess decomposed displayed at her feet

a single tear to remind that madness is their keeper

one dead, one dying, one living off the fever.

Queen of iron, Queen of dead things, the princess

becomes you, your flesh underneath.

(November 19 2015)