Tag Archives: schizophrenia

The Division

Let me count the ways you kill me;

1.) You carved promises at the notches of my brittle bones, mercilessly enthralling and hypnotising me under the anaesthetic assurance that everything was fine, that I was fine, and that I wouldn’t ever have to destroy myself again; but all the while, you crushed the very foundations beneath my suspended feet and made heaven shatter all around me like an ethereal motion sickness. And as if that wasn’t enough, you set everything on fire and watched this wretched phoenix turn to listless ashes, never to rise again; a demented conflagration.

2.) You promised me for better or for worse, but as I tried to find new names for the shade of red in my lips, you forgot about the obscene sickness that’s violently heaving inside my compromised chest and without so much as a twinge of second chances or point-blank hesitation, you injected every indistinct symptom known and unknown to man, turning my shaky breaths to crystalline lilacs and my selfish ribs to impure glass. I asked for a cure, and instead I received a despicable panacea, a myriad riot of plagues that irreparably devastated my system, ripping me to irreversible shreds. “You can’t get hurt if all you feel is hurt, right?”

3.) I’ve got hands like houses, and you rejected my severed hospitality as you broke down every locked door and deceptive boundary like it was nothing; like I was nothing. I constantly find myself lost in complicated syncopes, as I’m trapped spiraling and crawling back to the same self-sustaining cycles of parabolic grief and hypertensive schizophrenia, predicting premonitions that never came true. This eternal winter freezing over my bloodline is stitched together by a million blizzards and snowstorms conspiring exquisitely at once, but this difficult tantrum of a weather is not a tribulation to you, is it? Your cold temper is intolerable, a thousand suns melding together and detonating convulsively in the empty vacuum of space, and there’s no one else around to hear me scream one last time. I wanted to burn. You took it too far.

4.) Were you even sorry? Did you even feel a single taste of contrition when you watched my starving, pathetic soul grapple for life at the very nave of that decimated altar, asking for the silhouetted universe to fall on my back so that it wouldn’t be my fault, nor yours, that everything got screwed over? Did you see what I’ve done, just so I wouldn’t be what you’ve become? I couldn’t find my way back on the ground, so I swallowed my pride like pried coffin nails for the sake of a more poignant memory to remember; retribution heals what time cannot. Yet now I close my reckless eyes and softly coalesce in sadistic plumes of the miserable discourse you call an intravenous love, and I beg, and I beg. Were you even sorry at all?

5.) You are me, and I am you. I have no one. You are no one. When you lived, I died; and when you died, I along with you. I called it genocide. They called it desperation. For I am me, and you are you. There was no one else. They called it suicide. I call it salvation.

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Filed under Prose

split-second thoughts in a night that never seems to end

I float there, transcend time, I wanna capture it accurately
I wanna know what the color of the blood was
Spilling out from the tarp onto the concrete
I wanna write it all down so I can always remember
If you could see it up close how could you ever forget?
How senseless death, how precious life
I wanna be there when the bullet hit…

~*~

the room seems to get colder. is it just me or am i dying?

fingers locked on empty biro, waiting for something bad to happen

“what are you so scared of?” the bones in my body scream

like i wasn’t simply bleeding, like it wasn’t just a dream

well, i’m scared that i’m useless and i’m fragile and i’m weak

and i can’t ever justify myself for everything that i feel

i’m scared that i don’t know what my brain is telling me

that i need some medication just to feel a little more sorry

and i don’t want to submerge and i don’t want to stay up

they tell me to cut it out but instead all i hear is cut

and i’ve had enough of scars and i’ve had enough of crying

but the windows are all dark and i’m still alone not trying

to change what i can conceal at the tip of my tongue

and the words that i’m struggling, still struggling to understand

and i create these bold distractions and pretend for a while

that hell isn’t a few steps over, ready to greet me with a smile

but when the truth comes crashing down, it’s all i can do not to crack

not to break myself overthinking and bend until it hurts my back

because there comes a point where enough is not enough

and the walls start closing in and the ceiling starts to laugh

so i step outside and wish for rain, but just like everything else

i ever wished for and wanted, it doesn’t come true to end this hell

and so i gaze at the stars to comfort me and simply calm me

and so i gaze at the stars to keep my mind off suicide

and remind me of the times when i didn’t have to wonder

why i look at the distant lights in those times when i remember

that the dark is nothing to be scared of except when i’m inside

waiting for the final answer that turns out to be a lie

as my coffee’s getting cold and my skin is getting tighter

i’m suffocating with each breath and each burn on the cigarette lighter

my twitches getting frantic and my pulse is a heart attack

beating to rhythms of “when will someone come to take me back?”

no, i can’t sing to save my life; i can’t even save my life

‘cause i’ve spent it all on daily lessons about wasting out the fight

and i’m still standing outside losing, when the sun overtakes the horizon

with the only force left in the world and the energy to go on

but i’ll wait for the end, even if that takes more than a million years

until i’ve turned into a monument and crumbled but the ending isn’t near

because i’ve contemplated and i’ve meditated and i’ve prayed to every god

but my eyes are a little blurrier and my palms impaled on metal rods

striking lightning, never raining, an automatic impulse sleeping in my bed

everything sounds a little too schizophrenic when they’re all talking in my head

so when i finally find the strength to step back into that empty room so cold

i found that the temperature was the same deadly dull, and i still do as i’m told

and i’m still tired of everything even if everything’s just a fictional retelling

in my head, in my sleep, as i dream, as i wake, as i live…is it just me or am i dying?

~*~

I felt the burden of murder
It shook the earth to the core
Felt like the world was collapsing
Then we heard him speak
“Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?
Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?”

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Filed under Poetry

How come no one heard her when she said—?

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful
‘Cause no one’s ever told her so
And the demons that she hides are all she knows
And maybe she can fall in love
With someone in her life that she could trust
And tell her she’s enough
(Will someone tell her she’s enough?)

~*~

How come no one

heard her when she

was screaming in her

bedroom at three in the

morning, scratching madly

at the pristine walls until

her fingernails broke and bled?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was crying in a bathroom

stall, all the things they threw at

her leaving marks, and all

the ugly names they chanted at

her still ringing violently in her head?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was slicing and hacking

away at her unhealing skin

so fucking audibly, and when

she slipped on that liquid

and fell with a thud, bruised and

bathed in puddles of dirty red?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

moaned as she rested fitfully

sleep paralysis taking full

control of every recourse

mouthing all the words

to the nightmares, those things

that she’s always left unsaid?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

vomited bile and empty air

kneeling faithlessly in front of the

porcelain god, sharp ribs poking

through her paper chest, even when

she ate nothing the whole day,

with herself she was still disgusted?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was laughing, singing, and

talking by herself, and striking

up lengthy conversations with the

imaginary friends she made up

and the demons that she wed?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

asked relentlessly for help

begging and pleading, saying

that no doctor nor medicine

could ever cure her, and perhaps

an iota of support and care

for her was all she ever needed?

.

How come no one

heard her when she was already

being so earsplittingly loud

blind eyes and deaf ears

blaming nothing but the victim

“it was her fault” they say

“she should have said something”

but they all ignored her when

she actually piped up

keeping the regret to the very end—

and now she’s silent forever

and all her words went ahead…

tell me, how come no one

heard her until she was already dead?

~*~

Maybe I’m better off dead
If I was, would it finally be enough
To shut out all those voices in my head?
Maybe I’m better off dead, better off dead!
Did you hear a word, hear a word I said?
This is not where I belong
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…

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Filed under Poetry

Clockwork Seizure

“I can feel my nerves clicking like…roller coaster cogs, pulling up to the inevitable long plunge.” ~Will Graham

~*~

Something is wrong inside of you.

Very wrong.

You’ve never noticed it before.

But your minute engines seem to be s-t-u-t-t-e-r-i-n-g along

The gears /stop/ grinding altogether

The parts fall off like a rotten tooth.

And your mind suddenly snaps;

Into a m i l l i o n f e t t e r e d p i e c e s

Snap, crackle, pop.

Shatters silently, leaves no traces

The room around you, you find

Seems to get closer, closer

Pressing against your thoughts

Against your claustrophobic mind

And you can hear the walls

Screaming

Crying

Beckoning you with ~calls~

Pounding

P o u n d i n g  h a r d e r

Gales growing stronger

Fire tornadoes, heart burner

Manipulation and deceit

The universe ever so conceit

The working, ticking clock in the room

Further mocks your whim

Tick. Tick. Tock.

Mad laughter is besmirched in the very air

The metallic smell. The barging pounds.

Getting harder. Faster. Closer.

Until it rips into the walls of your brain.

The awful headache is highly unbearable

Aspirins refuse to dissolve the pain.

Is there anything to do but give in?

The provenance never mattered anymore

The cause is lost and gone too far

All that remains are clockwork metal

Tapping slowly on the concrete ground

Screws, bolts, nuts, cogs rolling away

And the numbers and hands seem to slowly decay

And all smudge together and float around

Before rusting and fading away behind

Along with your wispy broken mind.

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Filed under Poetry

The Diary of a Schizophrenic in an Asylum

(An attempt to see the world in the eyes of a schizophrenic. I greatly apologize for this mess of a poem I made.)

~*~

I am awake now.

My mind is in a constant state of disarray.

Shambles.

Entropy.

Torn to pieces.

Like pieces of paper in the wind.

I find no other purpose to exist in this world

Besides the Devil and His whims.

Why am I bothering to even write this down?

It won’t even matter at all.

My life is just invalid

My existence is a sham

I was just a terrible accident.

I don’t want to live.

I wasn’t meant to live at all.

But maybe I was?

Did Lucifer just want me to suffer

In this horrible, horrible world?

A mad man, that Morningstar was

Mad, mad, madder than me

But surprisingly a brilliant chap as well

Sent me to this place, yes He did.

Smart man. Smart move.

Where am I?

Am I dreaming? Am I dead already?

Carked it? Rotting off?

Infested with maggots at this very moment?

Where is this place anyways?

It can’t possibly be Hell.

It’s too white. Too clean.

Too clean for an impure man like me.

It needs more red. More black.

More inferno. More darkness.

Heaven?

Pure doesn’t exist in this filthy world.

It’s making my eyes hurt.

My eyes are hurting too much.

Blood. I see blood.

It’s bleeding off the damn walls.

Who’s to clean that up now?

Not I. I have enough blood on my hands.

No. It’s gone now.

It’s been replaced with black butterflies now.

They’re fluttering off into the window.

Goodbye, butterfly.

Who sent you to me?

It’s Asmodeus again, is it?

Oh, he’s the devil, He is.

That blighter is messing with my eyes again.

Or was it the man in white again?

He calls himself a “doctor”.

He says he could “help me recover”.

Ha! Such foreign, made-up words

Diving at the tip of his tongue.

What a sneaky, nosy, pesky pathetic liar.

Asking me questions like I couldn’t see

His true form at all.

He’s a messenger of the angels.

An advocate of the enemy.

He’s always trying to confuse me

With his sharp, sharp tongue

And his metal instruments of torture.

Ha. But he’ll never get me.

Constant vigilance.

He never will.

Who’s that I spot in a corner?

Oh no. It’s her again.

The faerie woman clad in black.

She’s back. No.

She’s the worst deceiver of them all.

I thought I killed her off.

The knife I used is still lodged in her back.

Pus and blood spurting off the wound.

She’s smiling at me with her razor teeth.

And stared with her empty eye sockets.

I feel utter shock.

Confusion.

Then madness.

The woman ripping at the seams

Exploding on my head

Tearing through my mind

Like the starved animal it is.

Faerie, faerie,

Why are you so cold-hearted and cruel?

Don’t hurt me.

I’m just a victim taken by the people in white.

The evil bastard angels.

No!

Not again.

Discord.

Too much discord.

They saw her.

They’re acting up again.

They’re rioting

And shouting

And begging for mercy

The voices in my head are.

Pounding through the walls of my skull

Rather hungrily

Such inconsiderate people

Their endless noise-making

Is giving me a headache

Something terrible.

I want to make them stop already.

I want to make the woman leave.

What should I do?

What could I do?

Nothing.

It’s inevitable.

I can’t do anything at all.

My hands are bound

My soul is shattered clean

My mind is unraveled

Like a fragile spider thread in a spool

Used as a noose.

The faerie woman smiles at me again.

Teeth flashing like fireflies, flash, flash

She whispers delicately “Nunc abire”

And with her bony hands covers my eyes.

I’m done for. Goodbye.

And so I scream and wail

Like a wounded animal in great pain

Though there is no one to hear me fall

And so I cry, like an oncoming storm

Until she envelops me and I can cry no more.

.

.

.

.

.

I am awake now.

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Filed under Poetry