The End of Identity

I.
 
I can't
not think
and see, through OCD<--break->
my kitchen table
with thoughts of fire
bursts into flames.
 
Those images,
they,
keep coming
every minute
making a friend's movements
into a musical.
 
I am
not alone
by myself
the world
my unwanted guest
my mind, myself.
 
Thoughts played
never willed
make me wish
I could make
the world die,
to live.
 
I hate
to think the world
doesn't love me,
but fate
flows indiscriminately
necessarily.
 
I scream
unheard
in my own head
and desire
strength
to lose my mind.
 
They play
I fight
and won't
go away
growing stronger equally
as we are the same.
 
I am
strength
desperation
burning brighter
by feeding
on myself, weakness.
 
II.
 
From the empty planet of myself, I look across
a cold grey landscape which runs forever, barren
without nature's blood.  The sky pulses under
image after unbidden image, a kaleidescope
where snakes constantly crawl over themselves.
 
Once there was a light, an image
that never changed, an anchor, immune
to involuntary influence, the promise of tomorrow,
of being, of bloody survival.  The world
of which I am a part, would never have me.
 
What can be done, can be undone, and the light
froze into a circle and cracked like a dinner plate.
The Intruder Mind, the state of nature
never needed me, breaking me, the individual,
into everything, unstoppable images linked inseparately.
 
III.
 
We are eternal
are
forever.
 
We are the wind blowing through the trees
are
each note of a symphony.
 
We are lust and passionate need
are
a lover's delicate fingers.
 
We are reason and cold calculation
are
the insatiable mind.
 
We are legion
are
 
Submitted by a client
Tags: 

Add a Comment