Only to sing, not words but notes
Feeling stunted by inertia
Unable to face faces
And engage gazes
I had to hide behind closed doors
Troubled by unprecedented emotivity
Eyes spun in their sockets
Seeking shelter from the sights
And set
For the most inward of reflections
I felt ripped open by the blades of misanthropy
Simultaneously fortified and utterly weak
From experiences heavily laden with meaning
Enigmas, always stifle me
Leave me breathless, hopeless
But these riddles, these frightening mysteries…
Overstimulated and undernourished
Underexposed and overabstracted
The psychotic inducement
Of baring all of yourself at once
Discerning fact from fiction
Truth from confabulation
I needed isolation
The purifier of poisons
I Sucked up into my mind
Detached from the phenomenological world
To wage preposterous wars
Within this passionate flesh
Of course the discourse for lonely hymns of hope
ReplyDeleteIs endangered with the paths of feverish egos
Frying in the snow the pillows of comfort
That reminds the mind of tempting furrows
But remember the fervor in which you spoke
When the first of your thoughts truly woke
For it is in the source of this yoke
That your heart may truly be un-broke
The day the basking strength of beauty awoke
The day you knew...
The un-conscious mind is never broke