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amphetamines, my makeshift wings
lift me up high towards the sun

cooked slower than a roasted pig
I drift from raw to overdone

no witnesses or memories
from the surface of the sun

the only proof I leave behind
this burnt light bulb: the smoking gun
 
conjoined at the heart
the schizophrenic paradox
twin brothers, black and white

one day they spun the moon
so that both sides faced the sun
now, no days or nights remain

no black or white
no grey / no heart
 
Yes, I wrote it. Thanks for the compliment.

Of course, you can use it. I'm flattered.
 
Ok, thanks I thought I better tell you first even though I already posted it cause I can soo relate. My son is bi-polar paranoid schizophrenic, but it's also a race thing too right?
 
The allusion to race was intentional, but it's not about race. It's about the unity of all things. As far as mental illness goes, I think most psychiatric disorders are misdiagnosed as disorders. There is only nothing and infinity. Ignorance, nothingness, is bliss. To know more than you should, is insanity. Psychotic individuals, as far as I'm concerned, should learn to love their psychosis. If it's a permanent condition - if it's a part of you - why repress it with medication? Why repress it at all? We demonize psychosis. We tell people they need to be medicated. That part of them is wrong, or evil or something. Doctors try to convince me of this, because they've been brainwashed to believe it. Before psychiatry, folks were convinced that people got possessed by demons. We haven't come too far, since then. Substituting the word demon for insane. Creating a list of stereotypical demons, called disorders, so we don't have treat each case individually. Depression demon, you say? Here, take this pill. Psychotic demon? Take this one. Bravo psychiatry. Might as well model therapy on mass production or fast food chains. Mental patients on conveyor belts. Diagnosis and prescription in twelve seconds guaranteed. I'm getting off track, because of the cocaine. But, you see my point. Assuming, that is, I made one. I think I did.
 
My eyes do not tear,
They flood,
With the measure of the
Memories that I fail to touch,
I find it awkward to draw,
The simplest lines,
The air in which I spin,
It drags with such viscosity,
No one will remember me,
As no one really cares,
If forever was a funeral,
No one would be there.
 
All of my cuts, and
All of my bruises and sores,
Stirred in a cauldron,
Of water that bubbles,
As it boils,
Love ripped in half,
Like a crusty piece of paper,
Dreams burned at night,
Like something to be hated,
I peek through the window,
And search for the light,
So very unlikely.
 
^^ <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

..and I think it's my eternal hatred for all, that is responsible for the heart symbols. A kind of diversion from hate with the flavour of love. Or maybe I'm just a nice guy? :)
 
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Because the name Ashley isn't gender specific, I assumed - because of all the hearts - that you were a chick. And, since I'm prone to misinterpret platonic declarations of love from women as flirtations, I interpreted your use of that particular emoticon as flirtatious. Then I realized were a dude. And I thought, maybe you're just a nice guy. But I think I know you better than that, now, through your poetry. I'm not saying you're not a nice guy. But you have a dark side. You're more complex than emoticons are capable of expressing. They're so limited in terms of what they can express. Most of the time, they misrepresent situations. Happy-face. Sad-face. Heart-symbol. Laughing-face. Your ability to express yourself through words is far more powerful. At a certain point, the ratio of emoticon:language can become annoying. You're not one of those people. Your ratio is fine. But it's a bit of a cop out, in terms of expressing yourself. If it is hatred, embrace it. Channel it. You don't need a diversion from the dark side. This isn't star wars.
 
ForEverAfter said:
Because the name Ashley isn't gender specific, I assumed - because of all the hearts - that you were a chick. And, since I'm prone to misinterpret platonic declarations of love from women as flirtations, I interpreted your use of that particular emoticon as flirtatious. Then I realized were a dude. And I thought, maybe you're just a nice guy. But I think I know you better than that, now, through your poetry.
Click to expand...

I too have suffered this disease. Though, I cannot find it in the DSM IV, oddly enough.. Perhaps it is some kind of subliminal flirtation, or perhaps merely a comfortable and familiar typing habit that when my fingers, which kiss the keys of my typewriter, ink love onto paper. Though, I think not.

But you have a dark side. You're more complex than emoticons are capable of expressing. They're so limited in terms of what they can express. Most of the time, they misrepresent situations. Happy-face. Sad-face. Heart-symbol. Laughing-face. Your ability to express yourself through words is far more powerful. At a certain point, the ratio of emoticon:language can become annoying. You're not one of those people. Your ratio is fine. But it's a bit of a cop out, in terms of expressing yourself. If it is hatred, embrace it. Channel it. You don't need a diversion from the dark side. This isn't star wars.
Click to expand...

You're the best!

A. <3
 
When your lips slid away from mine,
Into my pocket you slipped,
A scribbled note of instructions,
Detailed step by step methods,
Of how to break your heart,

The letters on the paper,
Previously had never left your head,
You had never given anybody else,
Such a dangerous list,

Why did you trust me with this?
Was it ignorance?
Or was it just,
The sheer magnitude,
Of us?
 
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of pornography,
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wanking, learing,
Lusting fantasies no mortal ever dared to dream but me,
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
That each separate dying tadpole wrought its ghost upon the floor,
Staining, evermore.

-Edgar Alan Poo
 
I stare at you,
With half of my vision,
And as you sit,
Beneath a sky lacking stars,
Underneath this skin,
Lies not a scant of hope,
Nor a heartfelt destiny,
Just many whispered screams,
That you cannot hear.

A. <3
 
I saw skies of blue and clouds of white,
and thought to myself, "Today's a good day to die."
You won't know my name: you won't see me in heaven.
Somewhere under the rainbow, way down low:
that's where you'll find me.
 
loneliness is a state of mind which the word makes real,

but, to realize yourself as such, is to realize yourself again.
 
I walk down shadowed passages,
Carrying burning maladies,
Cinders that remain,
Serve to preserve,
No memories.

I travel across dreary seas,
Courting aging desires,
That freeze all over again,
The cold prays on,
No answers.

When I scream your name,
I hear no answers,

No answers..
No answers...

No answers!
 
I stuff drugs into the concealed velcro anus of my childhood bear.
when my mother calls I don't silence the call.
I let it ring out.

she thought I was cute when I was twelve.
then I became dysfunctional. anti-social. ugly.
twelve, when special boys become average men.

I stuff drugs into the concealed vecro anus of my childhood bear.
I don't silence the call.
I let it ring out.
 
I eat some African kids. Not much meat on them.
Now I get why they don't just eat each other.

Doesn't preventing AIDS in Africa just mean there's less to eat?
There's not enough food as it is. Why keep more of them alive?

I pick up a hooker in Niger.
Two condoms, and I still can't do it.
It's not worth it: she's all skin and bone.
 
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