# psychosis.



## foxmusk (May 2, 2009)

i wrote this not long ago, in a psychotic episode, and wanted to know what everyone thinks...

_i feel i am going mad. why is that, you ask?

'cause im taking medicine that stabilizes my mood.
it's taking me out of my pretty, cloudy place in the sky down to level ground
it's putting me on an up to down verge with a boundary so thin a hairswidth would be jealous.
it's making me angry then fine then angry again and this is how it's gotta be until i adjust to it,

since this is gonna make the paranoia go away, but maybe if i could just say
what runs through my head every second of the day then i could get a break
from the monsters in my head and not live off pills and drain you of your
happiness to make you my life support
so every second youre away i wont feel my sanity slipping, slipping...

it's okay. there's not much to say to that, i suppose.
at least in a manner that wouldn't make you crazy like me, with all the rhyming words
and the metronome shoved in my head
so when im laying down in bed
all i hear is click and click again,
with thoughts of you and heroin,
and i just want some time away with you, my love, my legal drug.

there's no doubt this is psychosis i'm experiencing,
because everything has beat and rhyme and i can hear the sounds
as they would be spoken by a madman, with the ups and downs in his speech
and the cocking of his eyes.
i'm going mad, i do believe, for i just cannot seem to see
why this is all a song and dance and i cant even get the chance
to say anything because these words are ordering me to write them down.

i'm insane my dear, it's nothing more.
this sounds ridiculous, i'm sure,
but i am feeling mad, so very mad.
and yet so bad, so very bad.
but i can't seem to shake this choking urge to set my words to poetry.

perhaps this is how Poe did his stuff, in a manner where it came to him
not willingly but against what he'd wanted.
i've had enough! i must
tear out this heart, tear out my lungs,
so songs unsung can stay unsung.
so blood will dry, no longer fresh,
and i will rip apart my flesh,
and feed it to the starving dogs,
with my spinal cord now 'round my neck
to settle what's happened today,
and forevermore!

so no longer will i bleed or demand the life of you, my love,
for i am hanging by my own life support, forevermore!
So the food for me can go for good will,
for i will never eat again,
and i can finally have the shape for which i've longed,
with visible ribs and boney neck
and you will not have to keep me in check
for i am undead, for now and on.
A physical death awaits me not, for i am not destined to rot
in casket deep within the ground, but in my mind, unsafe, unsound,
forevermore.

and i will not be waiting at deaths door to be carried to the afterlife,
with golden roads and crystal lights, but rather still in my mind,
my chamber locked, til the end of time.
but i am not alone, my love, for you are here, right next to me!
and your shining eyes are all i see,
and all i need, for i am gone.
and yet i remain, to write this down,
or it's sanity's death that i have caused, but fear not!
for i am content with this chamber in my mind,
the chamber i keep locked til the end of time,
my madmans lair, just you and i,
forevermore!
and i will keep the key to the door,
and we will sleep beneath the floor,
and my time will never be a bore,
for i'm with you forevermore._


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## ElizabethAlexandraMary (May 13, 2009)

The writing feels good, however the complete lack of capitalisation and punctuation kind of ruin the mood.


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## nybx4life (May 13, 2009)

It feels like somebody's has been up too late in the night.

And is in desperate need of Red Bull.......


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