You don’t know me

Don’t point those words at me
Looking at the barrel of the gun
You hold against me
I see the chamber is empty
You think it’s full, it’s in your eyes
That ignorance
Your eyes ablaze with belligerence
Thinking you know me
When you don’t know the difference
Between the group you lumped me in
And the person I’ve always been
You only see the illusion you want to see
I’m as visible as any other kind
But you’ve put me in the shadows
Because then it’s easier on your mind

Noise pollution

There is no target
Marching aimless
We sold our souls for individuality
Only to become faceless
And everyone is drawing their guns
Angling for all that is wrong
thinking they’re right
While they flap their gums
Talking utter shite
About things they know none

And the world carries on
Indifferent to this war
Waged with words instead of swords
You might think that’s an improvement
But the wounds aren’t healing this time around
And a hangman’s noose is what brings these soldiers six feet underground
And these words right here are a symptom
Are you the underdog or the villain?
And if you don’t see what’s wrong with that question
You don’t understand what I’m saying
But this poem is part of the equation
So I’m just as guilty as you
I guess we’re all human
I guess I don’t have a solution
I’m just biding my time
A part of this noise pollution

Passing Seattle

Gonna go to Seattle and on to Bellevue
wouldn’t go with anyone but you
so we can drink on the rocks
A holiday from the school of hard knocks
We’ll hustle and bustle
With the nightlife of Belltown
and that swinging jazz will
Hush our nerves right down

And when we bed down
With the lace unfastened
We’ll call in on our old friend passion
Or we can just lay
In the glow of moonlight
A neon sign in the sky
Illuminating shadows
Rarely seen, usually only in passing

Invisible mental illness

The sun penetrates through the blinds
Dust floats in the split streams of light
But it doesn’t infiltrate the mind
And that’s the insanity or is it sanity
That is mine
There are no cracks to seep through
I’m not cracking up
I’m sealed up, only breakable inside

~

There is a political theory called, ‘the horseshoe theory’ and I think a similar argument can apply to mental health.

See what I believe is, a little delusion goes a long way to a functioning adult. Delusion is automatically regarded as some negative thing only mentally ill people have, but I swear by this, a little delusion is like the heart of functioning in this world.

Some people become so deluded that they no longer function, their heart has enlarged if you will.

But there is another type of person, the kind of person who can’t function because they harbour no delusions or don’t believe enough in any potential delusions they could have. It’s an affliction I call severe sanity. Of course, me thinking I’m too severely sane for this world could be seen as a symptom of insanity…. But of course, severe insanity can look much like insanity. Indeed the two merge to look like one in the same when you break it down and see that both the insane and the severely sane can both become dysfunctional in similar ways. Hence my mention of the horseshoe theory above.

what does that make me

I am the pendulum that swings
To knock down these walls
I tried to be so strong
But I’ve not got the wings
To fly away from this storm
And I wish I could say
That I think I’ll be okay
But I don’t believe, I never did anyway
I keep it all inside
Think I’ll lose something
If I show you this
Darkness within
And I know even now
This is just a fucking glimpse
And I won’t let you further in
You still won’t know what I’m dealing with
I watch these men and women
Walking around with hearts on their sleeves
People think I’m one of them
Cause I write these words
But it’s all appearances
You have no clue what’s on inside
I’m insane, does that make me less insane
Than those that don’t keep it contained?
Cause I lock mine in a cage
Only let it run behind closed doors
Seal it up in wardrobes and drawers
I’m medicated, keep it medicated
But there is a limit
And the monsters still wage these wars
Am I less insane than those
That don’t keep it contained?
Does that mean that I’m in less pain?
I was always told, in the case of an accident
It’s the silent victims first
Because they’re in critical condition
Well what does that make me
When it’s all silent
While they scream