I found my wits end
Like a wick at the end of a candle
Dying embers
Refining my latest scandal
To be remembered
As I become dismantled
depression
Nothing
My sockets are broke
Replaced my eyes with marbles
Got static on my tongue
Words unsung
Empty of thought
But not without feeling
Nothing to say
Nothing to declare
Silent sorrow on my mind
No hiding from this despair
These whispers
These whispers
Forget I’m dead
And they talk on as if
I dared to care
And my reflection
Says I’m still here
Misfit
These are lyrics in my mind, more so than poetry.
I miss having something to miss
I’m a loser
A misfit in ordinary clothes
better call the doctor
I’ve been drinkin’
Gotten to my liver
I keep getting these shivers
I’ve gone blind
Is it any wonder
I never see eye to eye
I’m a loser
A misfit in ordinary clothes
I miss wanting to quit
I want to quit not quitting
Ain’t touched a blade
Since I don’t know when
Wonder what’s wrong with that
Is it the alcohol
Or am I really fine
It’s too late in the day
I can’t tell if it’s not okay
I think I don’t know
A single fucking thing
I’m just a misfit
In ordinary clothes.
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
Internal scream
Bubbling to the brink
Cracking to the sound
Of my lips creak
Devouring dinner
With a familiar longing
for something more substantial
In retrospect
Realising
I am my own downfall
Surrendering to my own shock
Shattering my reflection
With my internal scream
Wanting death when there is no release
I’m terrified I’ll want to die
When the news travels down
The grapevine
I’ve been to that place
I’ve had my neck in the rope
I’m scared I’ll still fight
Against my own conscious will
When it comes to the kill.
Melancholic
Melancholic, reminiscence
Bubbling on the rocks
Drink it in one swoop
Velvet heat down my throat
I’m no alcoholic
This is purely medicinal
Robbie Williams sings through the speakers
“I love my life, I am powerful, I am free”
Another swig
To swallow the bitter aftertaste
From the lack of ability
To agree.
battle
I want to be like my granddad
not this on edge battle
constantly within
I want to be one of those men
who is calm and collected
even through adversity
but my brain works out of sync
with my wishes
and instead I’m constantly
wound to the highest of settings
looking over my shoulder
always expecting the worse
and making myself grieve
before any news has even been heard
I put myself through the ringer
always churning out anxious messes
I think I might just have enough of this
fucked up shit in my mind
that had I been born in a different time
i’d have been institutionalised
and sometimes I think maybe
it’d be easier
in a straitjacket
to save myself from this responsibility
of being a fully fledged human
i’ve got these contradicting sides
of me, arguing.
one side says I want to be a self sufficient man
but that despite that want, I don’t think that I can
and another side of me wants to run away
or maybe just induce myself into a coma
and never wake
