Insight Into The Introspective Workings of My Mind

The product of an hour of me writing exactly what flew into my head as it flew into my head, labeled as a poem because it has neither plot nor setting nor protagonist nor antagonist save for my mind.

WHAT IS THIS LIFE!!! This life that is my own… this s**t I live in…

 

What a fucked up piece of s**t I am, in the eve of the death of a friend I can already smile…

It disgusts me

My mind is tortured

My body is twisted

My soul is torn

I am a man

I am a lie

I cannot sleep for if I do my fingers bleed

For what I am is what I do

I write…

Mine is a tale riddled with sorrow and angst and regret and all multitudes of other things dis-pleasurable… so f**k me as I lay here writing away as if there is nothing wrong… inside there are thousands of me, bits of my shattered heart and mind some sobbing some screaming in ANGUISHING PAIN!!! Others are shouting louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, UNTIL FINALLY THEY ARE SCREAMING SO LOUD I CAN HEAR NOTHING ELSE BUT THE TORTOUS WAILS OF MY PAINED MIND.

And I feel like shattering glass, like twisted metal, like all manner of madness in the malevolent manor that is my miraculous mind…

I cry now

I scream now

And now, now I am silent

 

 

 

I write these words hoping that as they usher forth from my mind I too will understand there meaning, for these are the thoughts that run rampant through my mind every day, every second, from the beginning of my life as a small infant. Then I grew, first it was the one with the bowl cut, then the one of blond gold, it was her whom captivated me for so long even after her death, then it was the Raven, with rose in beak as it taunted the fox below. As I the stone man watched it from afar, the raven took flight, the fox took after it and is now forever lost… the stone man shattered, and the shards were formed onto a gate, and behind the gate I forced the remnants of the stone man’s feelings for the raven and the fox… now I stand upon a portcullis and wonder why I am there only to have it revealed to me in a way that makes no sense yet somehow I understand. The world is clear to my eyes; my mind sees it through them and understands. However when my inner mind tries to view the world it is muted and muddled, disfigured and mashed… it is banged, clanged, smashed and otherwise unintelligible. For forever I will walk unyielding to all but god himself, for I am not religious in anyway, but if god is truly god then he and only he can yield me.

This is a six word sentence.

And this is a seven word one.

This sentence does not have eight words in it.

I feel like a feather drifting on a current of air, or perhaps I feel like me, lying in bed with laptop on chest and my thoughts are like a feather. Free to sway this way and that yet directed by a force unseen… I think of nothing I do not put into text.

I feel like a soldier who has lived his entire life on the battle field close enough to death to kiss him upon the breast, for death is a woman to me, and she is both beautiful and enticing, with grey hair but a young face, she stands under a willow tree, nude, with not but a sickle, not a scythe, she holds it in her left hand with the blade pointing down… she enjoys the sunrise…

 

Why is this me

These words I type so fervently are my thoughts as they come to me, I may go back and check the spelling but never the meaning of the word.

There Is a fly now, banging into my window, over and over, perhaps the fly is insane, the definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over again expecting different results… the fly will be dead soon… I wonder how he would taste… sour and bitter I would imagine, like the smell of stale cigarettes and old beer, the smell of my father, it was the smell of my father before I was born but to this day when I am with him, or when I think if him I smell that smell, that odor, that stench, that manifestation of particles that react with sensory cells in my nasal cavity provoking a response… I actually quite like it. Though I may crinkle my nose and pretend it disgusts me, i quite like it; I play the role of what I am not too well in this world. That is why I look forward to the next, for in it I will be able to play no part but my own…. And so I watch the sunrise under the willow tree with the nude woman who is DEATH…

I am depressed

But not enough to show, I smile, I laugh, I play, but I know, I know that it is all a façade, the game I play with the world when I put on my mask every morning. I put on the mask to hide the truth. The truth not even I know… the mask I put on so when I look in the mirror the truth I fear, the truth I hide is also hidden from me…

 

I write this here because love hides from me, I love writing but my grammar is bad at best, I have loved women but it has never been returned… I write this now because I feel I must for without these words on this paper I will feel lost, forgotten, hidden, closed off… forever.

These words are like snakes, they can be calm or CRULE Or even timid…

It is up to you to interpret them as I have put them down… my suggestion, wait until one o’clock in the morning, eat nothing for dinner, and mourn a lost friend before you begin to read, because I ate dinner, and what that has to do with anything is beyond me… my thoughts are my own, so why the hell should I share them with you

So why did I write that

The answer is simple

Is it?

It is.

As simple as repeating my question backward

Yes

Then what is it

What does it matter?

Everything matters

Dose it?

It dose

 TELL ME you maggoty b*****d!

Don’t call me that

I didn’t call you ‘that’ I called you a maggoty b*****d!

Then stop

Maybe I will

Please do

You damn pansy, why don’t you come at me for a change

Because to hurt you would be to hurt my self

What?

I don’t know

Huh… ok well what were we talking about then?

I don’t remember

Lets scroll up and see

Why don’t you both stop and shut the hell up

Who the hell are you?

I’m the higher brain function, who are you

I’m the subconscious right brain

And I’m the subconscious left

 

 

All three of you quit, I’m the one writing and I’m moving on

 

Where am I now

I am in a castle it is grey, like lady death…

What are we to be that is amongst the stars? Cast away from the dreary window… I believe in no God

Yet I believe in all gods

Can I be not as the Romans or the Greeks or the Mayans or the Aztecs? There gods were as many and as varied as the stars in the sky, or grains of sand in the Sahara, yet they had no problem understanding the points of life that were righteous and those that were nefarious… can there be only one all seeing all knowing all understanding being? Why not a pantheon? Why not a multitude of gods and goddesses contained within each one?

Who am i?

WHO AM I!?!

please tell me, i sob, shout, scream these words but they fall upon ears that are dead

Who am I to walk this earth, what gives me that right? So many questions, so many answers, so little time… yet I have forever

 

I do not pretend to understand what it is I am writing, I only hope it will provide some insight… depending on how well you know me, and depending on how much of  me you understand some parts are as clear as day, others are foggy, dim, dull, hidden, misunderstood…

 

Oh what life is to be forever free of scorn?

I have never wished I was not born…

This life to be, am I truly free?

No

 

There are two men and a woman who live inside my head, one lives on the right, one lives on the left, and one encompasses the entirety of my mind… my mind is surrounded by walls I cannot break. i feel confined, imprisoned, within these walls of my mind…

Shattering glass

The razors edge

A drop of water

These are images in my mind

An empty nest

A yellow butterfly

A shard of glass… covered in blood

Both mine and someone elses

           I wonder who they were

There is a mountan in the distance, I am flying, fast…

I crash into the mountan

What are these words

Do you have an answer

All that I am is this

This is me

This is who I am

A pianist with no piano

A night with no horse

A bard with no audience

I am not broken

Not yet any ways

Do not forget me

Do not forget me

Do not for get me

Because if you do I will be gone forever

 

I feel like a lost child, afraid and alone. Please stay with me

Because this is who I am, this is what I am, this, is me…

Author's Note

This is how my mind works, if you would like me to explain something in greater detail please ask. Ignore the fact that there are parts that are essentially a long run-on sentence. This is unedited and un-abbreviated, this is raw, this is me...

Reviews

[Black]

i like the thoughts
though the caps and letter type is... well overdone..

i think you put your thoughts on papter..
but they sure need some editing, to go allong for a poem?
it is more like an essay now
and essay about your emotions
about how you feel
and im not disaproving,
i think you have the right to feel what you feel
and i can relate,
but if you want it to be a poem, you could use some work on it,
if not, call it an essay,
i dont think you need the caps, and the great letter type, to prove how important it is though,
i think, if you or anyone can relate,
that is more then natural, that those thoughts are important
keep on writing, and dont deny yourself what you feel,
no matter what anyone says