Pareidolia

I once took a trip into psychosis,
A familiar locale,
Down the winding gaudy pathways,
Down the rabbithole,
Following Alice,
Or was it a shadow on a tree?

I see things,
Dancing on my periphery,
Unsure if they exist or not,
Abstract shapes in the dark,
Shadow people and the man in the moon,
Friends and foes unclear,

I hear things,
Or do my ears deceive me?
Syllables in the breeze,
EVPs and messages in the music of the night,
Voices muttering in unknown tongues,
Joshing in the witching hour,

I return to my den,
Perspective awry,
I find myself glancing in the mirror,
My own face grimaces back,
The contours are different though,
A sense of pareidolia?

As I stare blankly,
The reflection grins darkly in return.

Torment

I found a bunker in my dreams,
I could only enter the dank room,
The grey walls greet me with indifference,
My only companions,
They mock me in silence,
Emotions bubble up within like a geyser,

Red,

I scream out,
Unleashing a beast of decibels,
A dragon of mania,
Wreathing the land in a roar of torment,
My vocal chords obey in terror,
I tear at my own cheeks in fury,

Blue,

Spent,
I long to collapse,
Sweat descends like tears,
Pulse of agonised woe,
The walls ignore me no longer,
They tremble at my rageful becoming.

Overload

Blue screen,
Messages and thoughts abound,
A virus of stress broke through,
Enkindling the synapses,
The brain is overloaded,

Sparks fly,
Vivid depictions of strain,
Voltaic jolts of heartfelt pain,
All shades of superheated emotion,
Overthinking overdrive,

The circuits melt,
Into pitiful sludge,
Formerly logical solder,
Masterfully artificed,
Worn down over years,

As the cortex fries,
This biological frame shuts down,
Finally overwhelmed,
This defect is systemic,
A restart is required.

Geist

I died many moons ago,
A forgotten yesteryear,
A summer of discord,
Stinking heat of golds and silvers,
All burns and bugs,

I amble these haunted houses,
And cemetery streets,
Shadowed by a convoy of corpseflies,
Just a walking dead,
A dusky cadaver,

Invisible to most,
Save for those of a similar spiritual leaning,
Bumping into the unwary,
Shrieking banshee tunes,
A miserable poltergeist,

I’m a wraith,
What killed me?
It’s hard to say,
Memories can be eerie mirages,
But I believe it resemebled Eros.

Romantic Mute

Despite my unseemly form,
Writhing with inadequacies,
I was once a romantic at heart,
A passionate bard,
Singing the praises of my loves,
Seeing the light in the dark,

But it wasn’t to last,
One night was a turntable,
You came to me,
A snide succubus,
A bloody mary,
Lashing flames of erotic venom,

You meant only ill,
Your words brought me a stinging sensation,
As if needles pierced my lips,
Sewing my mouth shut,
You rendered me mute,
Voiceless,

After that hellish night,
My tongue shall never again utter romance,
I speak only with these inked words,
I’d need a scalpel,
To return my joy,
A glasgow smile of sorts,

Truth be told though,
It’s not worth severing these threads.

Torpor

I slept,

I lost my teeth last night,
They were taken by little hands,
Shadowy hands,
Teeming from every nook and cranny,
Of this shaded cell,
A host of impish incubi,

I stirred,

I can’t fight back,
Sleep paralysis,
The image of the hag holds me down,
My eyes simply spectate,
This sinister comedy,
The hands mock my seeming,

I woke,

I need my teeth,
For without them,
How am I to entertain the guests?
The lords and ladies,
The drunkards and jezebels,
I’ll be a waking pariah,

I cried.

Mime

I long to be a mime,
A monochrome shadow,
Dancing in the streets,
Rain or shine,
Not a word past these lips,

Exaggerated actions,
My body a theatre piece,
A human prop,
Abstracting life into theatrics,
Grist for mortal eyes,

Countless acts of humans,
Taking your lifestyles,
And I stylize them,
Shine them through an invisible box,
Against an invisible storm,

Even as I fluidly perform,
A flamboyant charleston,
To an audience of drones,
My frown is permanently painted,
The showers don’t wash it off,

A mimes lament is invisible too.

Stridor

I’m a man of words,
But not of talking,
Not of tongues,
If I attempt it,
My throat gains an eerie rasp,

When I behold you,
I try to sweetly exalt,
The words in my mind,
Cradled in lilac and sugar,
Flying on wings of cherubs,

But the words inexplicably contort,
Into an unearthly sound of breath,
Of hellish design,
My tongue rebels,
A shrill auditory talent show,

I appear a banshee,
Spewing screams,
All nerves and sinew,
A nonsensical wheeze,
No longer angelic,

My eyes gaping,
Your answer so desirous,
Yet also apocalyptically alarming,
It could make me rasp,
It could kill me.

Engineer Friend

Hey engineer friend,
I think I’m due a refit,
I don’t feel fully functional,

Oh engineer friend,
Can you give my face a lick of paint?
It seems this smile is fading,

Oh engineer friend,
Could you inspect my skeletal hands?
They refuse to stop shaking,

Oh engineer friend,
I fear my optics are defective,
They continually leak beryl slop,

Oi engineer friend,
Could you fix me up a new heart?
This organic one has grown gangrenous,

Oh engineer friend,
Could you 3D print me a new soul?
This one is discolored and dented,

Well engineer friend,
Perhaps a new model is required,
Perchance I ought to retire to the scrapyard.

Eat The Rich

You apathetic dragons,
In your boardroom hoards,
Remember us?
We little people,
The public,
The ever-hungry,

We were the ones,
You trod into the muck,
We were the ones,
You left out in the cold,
We were the ones,
You used in your schemes,

Our chump change wasn’t enough,
You had to take our homes,
And the skins off our backs,
But we’re only animals,
And when we feel cornered,
We’ll even hunt dragons,

When the resources expire,
And the fires burn low,
We’ll climb your piles of gold,
In our dingy rags,
On shattered limbs,
Mad hunger saliva,

You so-called elites,
You’re going down too,
Even your power won’t save you,
From the knives of the poor,
It’s the end for you too,
We’ll eat the rich.