Fractured Words From A Splintered Mind

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Fractured Words From A Splintered Mind I used to use words to help with issues. I have started to again. I share at risk of ridicule, but

At risk of ridicule, here I share some forms of written words, that may help others understand me. I accept I am broken, both in mind and body - but I don't necessarily look that way on the outside.

09/03/2024

It's back again.
I thought that I'd been exorcised of this,
I've been content - away from the bludgeoning on my thoughts.
"My Mind Is Out To Get Me" one of my books is titled.
Ha! I can't even pick it up to squint at words on pages,
It's too much to absorb right now.
Heavy is the world that I currently exist in. Too heavy.
A small, matter of fact becomes a humongous matter of FAKE!

Somewhere, there's a small voice telling me this is all my perception,
That this isn't all real.
That I CAN ignore it all, push through it,
But constant excessive chattering of other dozens of words flying around,
Monologues between themselves,
They drown out these small and quiet words.

I can feel my rage again.
I've been cut off from it for some time now.
I still have my barriers up - for once I'm glad of my pain,
Else the power of emotions would break down barriers,
Raging through like a tempest, ripping my mind apart.
Leaving me staring at the volte-face; knowing what's happening, powerless to act.

Oh, my mind. Normally such a semantic exposition of life,
Binding me to ground,
Keeping me stable,
Ensuring that I remain ME.

Even now I can feel its actions,
The ambiguous trembles and tingling - it's not pain, not sensation loss.
It's my mind taking over,
Attribution to something it's not.
Fighting will expend any emotional energy that I'll need later.
Some erg that will permit steadiness in personal interactions.
The safety net for others,
A pretence for all to face.

I know this journey,
Albeit it's not one I've traversed for some time.
Sanity is an element that feels is being lost,
Flitting away like dreams on waking. Grasped at like motes of smoke buffeted by wind.
In view and just clinging onto me, but always out of full grasp.

It's time to lock away,
Stand myself behind the barricades of reality.
Stay within the bounds of safety - the bonds of partition.
Ride the journey like a zephyr through the tempest;
Apashia is here. Rapping the barricades in my skull,

It's an anachronistic fight I've lost, again.
I feel it stepping through the cracks found in searches unaware of.
Lost and adrift I can only watch on,
I'm the jetsam from my minds journey
and am now nothing but a spectator.
Whatever is witnessed, whatever position anyone will take,
It's not me! I'm as much an onlooker as anyone.

There's a difference betwixt us though.
What my genuine self discerns from wherever I've retreated to.
It kills me by fragments, perceiving myself,
The scrutiny actions & elements taken.
It's just my mind that's out to get me again.
It's just recrudescences of polarity,
I'm still here,
Demoted to an onlooker.
Wait for my reinstatement,
And permit me to grieve for causality and causality,
Let me reinstate my barriers, build them again, for the next time.

Let me apologise now.
I'm here, but it's not ME you'll see.
I'm banging on the same barriers,
Weeping silently within.
I'm sorry - stay away, for all our sakes.

30/10/2023

If we all started to lift each other up, rather than pull others down,
We'd all be far happier and content with what we have.
Sometimes that burning ambition that you can feel in your chest,
the part that makes you do whatever is required to get up to the next level...
well, it's burning away the parts that make you who you are;
let it burn differently instead.
Take that fire and add it to others, and quickly it will go from a small ember or flame,
into a prodigious blaze instead.
If we could all do that simple action, then that blaze could be turned on anything we wanted;
Then you'd still feel the happiness and satisfaction that you thought you'd feel by taking the other route,
knocking people down and just taking what you wanted -
But this feeling would last far longer than a single flickering flame or ember could make you feel.

18/05/2022

I want to tear apart the flesh from my skull.
Rip it from my head like used paper.
Smash my bones against the wall until they splinter,
Throw pieces at those passing,
Screaming obscenities at all!
Pull the matter from my brain and smear it on their faces.

Just so, for a moment,
They can get a feel of what it's like inside...

17/05/2022

Body, wracked with pain and denied sleep...
Mind, bent in twisted ways, shattered to contort memories to hideous pictures...
Eyes, seem too much that cannot be unseen - projecting their memories onto the mind when sleep does finally come.
The relentless role of help not received,
but happily given with ne'er any thought of reciprocal actions needed.
The simplest of kindness, reducing the body and mind to unbidden tears - washing away the façade presented
Matters and woes,
thoughts and fears.
The fragments of thoughts, the solitude of memories.
Cast away the pain, throw it with all discarded;
There's no need for pain where I reside.
I reside within the pain, for we are one.
Not the pain from the physical,
The body that's now unwilling or unable.
No, the pain in which I live,
Is the simple pain within the mind.
Shatter the illusion,
There is no mind, no body, no soul.
There is only pain.
Yet still, the unknown kindness of others,
Their actions being simple, honest, yet meaningful.
Meaningful in greater extents to me.
Am I deserving of these things?
The immediate thought that comes unbidden.
One always wonders, at such actions.
Knowing with all intensity that there is the truth behind them,
But with pain discarded,
And that pain being having been in the mind,
The place where I reside.
I have discarded my mind,
My willingness,
My wholeness,
And my solitude.
All discarded for they're part of the pain.
I live in the ether,
I exist in my own discarded imagination,
My own sanity,
My very existence and essence - all discarded.
My body a shell,
My mind let loose,
I live in the pain, and the pain lives in me.

16/05/2022

Pitiful
-------

I scream at the top of my voice!
But I hear nothing.
The birds still sing in the trees, but I go unheard;
This thing that drives me forward,
The one thing that I will never be without,
Is the one thing I would give up in a heartbeat.

Sorry for oneself is pitiful.
So am I pitiful or pitied?
Perhaps, for just one moment, I'm both;
My yearning desire can never be,
For I chose this path, this simple direction.
Oh, for the blissful ignorance of youth!

Knowledge of mankind's deepest depravity,
Seared onto the backs of eyes,
Always to be seen, never expunged.
The senseless acts that cannot be fathomed,
The true raw nature, laid bare.
The minute Masters that lay down the truth,
The spring behind the cogs of time,
Never will they see the behind these eyes.

I made my choices, I followed them through.
From the path, stray I did not.
Carry out my dues, I did.
So, for all coming from one juncture,
I carry with me now what I must.
My screams will go unheard, my panic missed.

Pitiful or pitied?
Neither, just living.
Living the consequences of choice.

15/05/2022

I look in the mirror but I don't know who's looking back.
It seems so long since I knew the person staring at me,
What happened?
Where has the person I know gone?

It's far, far, back,
Too far back in time from me to remember or I understand.
I know those grey hairs,
I know those lines on my face.
Each hair,
Each line something given to me over time.
Something to prove that I have even existed.
All those I get.
All those I remember.
It's the eyes.
The eyes are what I don't recognise.

The swirling depth that's in them,
The darkness that shouts at me.
The eyes of someone far older than I can be,
The eyes that speak of things seen,
Things that shouldn't have been,
Things that never should have been,
Things that drag you down with them,
Down into the abyss,
That bottomless depth that lays both in the heart,
And in the centre of one's mind.

There's an edge to them,
There's a hardness that wasn't there before,
Like a cruelty.

09/04/2022

THE CROSSROADS OF A FIGURE OF 8 TRACK
-------------------------------------------------

--->It's been a while since I posted, but the writing doesn't really stop; the splits of my mind send me to places that I've already been - but when I arrive they're different from the place that I was before. I hope that this tries to make a little sense of that.

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