Psychosis

Image Courtesy: http://www.deadlyvibe.com.au/2014/01/psychosis-a-misunderstood-illness/

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Trapped within the confines of my mind,
The rest move on as I am left behind.
I fight hard to keep my demons at bay
But in the end I am left to decay.

Explain I must, to be a voice for the voiceless,
Pain I shall endure so our story may be heard with lucidity.
A bard for the deranged I choose to be,
So that my sodality may finally be free from insanity.

But how am I to be the spinner of yarns,
If my subconscious keeps me tightly bound,
My helplessness has no limits,
As I am shoved into the ground.

I finally give in to the dark beckoning of my mind,
Unable to tell you my story, words I cannot find.
Darkness all around, in grief I am drowned
Mind succeeds in keeping me shackled and crowned.

Writer’s Dissolution

Image Courtesy: http://www.anatomicalromance.wordpress.com

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Words and syllables spun of eloquent vocabulary,
Impellent thinking leads to an intangible slurry.
Calm your mind and the words will follow,
Weaving them into feelings, anything but shallow.

Wounded interior and a scarred soul,
Pain and Sadness resonating from my core.
Elaborate language your only remedy,
Fraudulent verbs my only clarity.

Geniuses we are not, just skilled at weaving,
A necessary sin to prevent sanity from leaving.
You believe us writers to be truly talented,
When all we have is a psyche that is multifaceted.

Commit this crime of passion we must,
Or crippled, we’ll be lying in the dust.
Our words, nothing but emotions of nature,
So when we die, we shall be immortalized on paper.

Writers write for they are egomaniacs,
A fancy poem our soul’s aphrodisiac.
Spinning words, the most heinous temptation,
Desperation for eternity our only salvation.