An
imagined feeling of castration
and
not knowing a sense of cause.
My
tongue cut lifelessly stray from its masterful brain.
My
eyes opening to a skeletal me.
Facing
a mirror, preoccupied,
looking
for the familiarity of scars.
Am
I to “Rip up this reality text.”?
Ripping
at it to find the edge of this sanity frame.
I
am tearing at it buoyant in an ocean without feelings.
I
swim after meanings that are drifting away.
Beside
myself, this smells like a dream
where
I am standing in line,
facing
where I’m being pushed by my urge to live.
There
are these invisible hands, clamp together,
surrounding
my brain, pushing the life out of me.
I
feel touched but I am fearing the unexpected
from
the acid of my unknown desires.
Absentmindedly,
I look below my vision to discover,
I
too am this thing that is rubbing at me.
So
don’t look at me with alarm.
Use
what you see to help me.
Help
me, at least hum along with the fury of my voice.
Clap
your hands with my hands.
Nod
with me when I nod.
Please,
don’t show me
with
those reflecting eyes of yours
what
I see out of mine.
For
I see a stampede of deaths passing by me,
that
I can only break frame by blinking.
No
one of these deaths is quick enough in the viewing
to
save me from my long journey
as
driftwood in this ocean of sorrow.
Yet,
all of a sudden, no history, no story, no sight
as
if totally broken down.
And
from here, I want to avoid your eyes,
the
staring back, my deformity presenting,
and
having no answers that offer any animation.
There
is no composure to calm your looking at me
so
that I can look back at you and feel reaffirmed.
You
are catching me without motives
yet
emotions keep finding a way out my mouth at you,
and
I cannot stop this gasping then repulsion.
Some
awkward consciousness has skewered
my
personality, still dripping over this unceasing fire
running
along under me
with
some godforsaken hot breath grabbing at me,
down
my throat, ripping at my stomach
numb
with glum.
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