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.
