Posts Tagged ‘voices’

scream

Back ensconced in ward 8 Bentley Hospital in my flytrap mind

At least I’m with my crazy people

Suicidal ideation with cold claws of depression around my throat

Empathy and cigarettes as I meet the gentle mental

Telling tales of trauma as we lurch toward medication time buoyed by companionship

Memories of their voices

‘She was born a heroin baby’

‘I took an overdose of Valium and a shitload of antidepressants’

‘I tried to kill myself twice’

‘I wish I was dead’

‘I tried to hang myself with a sheet and the nurse found me’

People rendered fragile by the viscous blender of earth

Some think us hopelessly broken

We balance madness and sanity in our brains sometimes madness wins

Medication time, medication time

Drugs are shuffled by doctors and dolled out to wild-eyed victims of the societal meat-grinder

Titration of pills and prescriptions to quell anxiety, depression and delusion

Uppers, downers, round and rounders

Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants and heavenly benzodiazepenes

Then we sit outside in the courtyard to smoke to punctuate our day

Sharing cigarettes with noble depressives or exploring thought projection with shamanic schizophrenics

We dance a devilish dance in a rain of paranoia

Until it all becomes too much

We are sad, we are sometimes shattered

Sometimes hard to love

But we laugh and we smile too

Then howl out the agony of our souls

We will keep trying

To get our heads together

Advertisements
high-dog-440x440

Hidden heart erupts pulse flowers like dust-motes through air

Inner brain imagines mandalas

Plastic fractal rainbow images crystallize my mental skate-park

Unicorn day-dream deadly fantasias, hooligan holograms

Central hallucinations pulsating in infinite variety

Mad ravings by voices which echo incongruously

Suicidal strivings against concrete conformity

Schizoid simperings in the marrow of suburbia

Cracked actions in a bubble of sedition

Mutating madrigals which burble in tune

To the beat of the cosmos, galaxies and stars

Dreaming of vast swaying fields of marijuana

Drunk on delusions and midnight madness

Dying while hermit crabs crackle against rocks

Dying overcome by poisonous paranoia

Dying within while the world rages without

 

images-7

Do your thoughts ever surprise you?

Do they rise up like sharks from you unconscious and bite you in two?

Rendering you paralyzed with fear and paranoia

Are there sweaty poisonous thoughts subtle as ferrets that eat you up from the inside?

Or wild roller-coaster thoughts that trip your skull out to the edge

Do they come as voices and gibber and gape in your cranium?

Telling you to kill yourself or someone else

Don’t do it

Chill the fuck out

It’s just an illusion of the mind

 

cutting

Noises in the system
Voices in the head
Let me out
I don’t like it in here
This confinement
In this cage of blades,
This knotted cage of woe
With Satan breathing on my neck
I do my work
Work of the razor
Cutting easily
To blood
To blood
Tender moments with my arm
The razor does its work
My own brutal calligraphy
Written in letters of pain
There must be more than this
But there doesn’t seem to be
Cut it again
Watch it bleed
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat

voices
He hears
He hears
Voices in his head
In his head
Voices from inside
Voices from his mental address
Not like the voices from outside
Pleading voices
Begging voices
Commanding voices deciding choices
Voices in his head
Map out his road through life
Forbid actions
Permit actions
Voices in his head
Voices
In his head
To tell him what to do
If he ever wondered what to do
Might be the spirits of dead ancestors
Or passing demons sweeping out of desert places
Voices
Voices
In his head
In his head
He hears voices in his head
Like a mystical mental radio
Like a repeating verbal collage
He hears voices in his head

When you talk
I can hear gears whirling and missing
And see misfired electricity racing to the end of burnt-out of neurons
You are talking to yourself and not to me
And you always smoke all the weed

Your world is populated by imaginary friends
A whispering, mumbling, shouting cacophony
And you’re always talking to them
But you say you’re not schizophrenic

You are convinced of your genius
But how much is pretension
And how much is delusion
And how much sanity prevention

‘Artist’ is a wall you hide behind
To avoid getting help
It’s all getting tired
Call the doctor

You need help
Like fifty psychiatrists in Jamaica bent out of their brains just thinking about your problems
You need help
Like Freud and Jung tag teaming you on a couch of marshmallows help
You need help
Psychologists, psychiatrists, psych-nurses, witch doctors everybody helping you
Then you might get your shit together
And stop being such a pain in the ass

bowie
Ah the transcendent bastardry of life
The way a wonderful woman is always over the horizon and unobtainable
The way jealously poisons friendship
The way pretension ruins talent
The way everything reduces to blood, spit and unfulfilled desires
The way ugly old people always look so sad
The way youth festers and crumbles into middle aged mediocrity
The way my younger brother died of unknown causes in Laos
The way the Star-man never descends from the sky to take us away from this painful earth
The way David Bowie is dead
The way I can’t tell the crazy from the sane
The way the stars are pin-cushioning my brain
The way the voices of hell are in my head
The way I lie each night in an empty bed
The way it is not the way I want Universe to be
But maybe the problem is me