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Schizophrenic Scripture

         
in another          
attempt to put pen to paper          
i plot a course          
as ideas are omnipresent          
but today I'm filled with contempt          
cuz  there's an ominous cloud          
hovering about          
making things a wee bit murky          
and without a pronounced vibe          
as the vehicle          
these jagged musings          
just linger in the labyrinth of the mind          
echoing in the halls          
of this endless cathedral          
banging in rebellion          
against invisible walls          
antagonists of a sooted soul          
awaiting combustion          
          
    
hence no linear frame of thought          
         
    
I'm told to just follow the bouncing ball        
my muse is a fucking sadist i tell ya          
amused by my childlike endeavors          
awakening between dimensions          
chasing remnants of ambiguous dreams          
like so many bubbles floating about        
can only pick one at a time          
handle with care          
or it's bound to burst          
now watch this juggling act          
performed by a natural born klutz        
          
    
fuck          
          
    
amazed that anything ever gets done          
i'm forever undone          
psalms remains unsung          
some 20 years and counting          
my hung jury still deliberating          
instead of liberating me          
as the sands of this human hourglass          
grate against the psyche...          
a likely candidate for the rubber room          
an undercover psychotic          
i got it bad          
hiding my insanity in plain sight          
'such a nice young man'          
yeah right          
walk a mile in these shoes          
and discover my civility was just a ruse          
i was hoping to pass through          
without incident          
stuck between realms          
with hands glued to a whimsical pen        
one day I'm basking in the sun          
the next I'm praying for the apocalypse          
cuz one of my wandering warlocks          
hates this fuckin place          
          
    
it's like          
the clash of titans inside here i swear          
with an insidious inside joke being played          
cuz someone had the nerve          
to name me Prometheus          
but to this day          
i still ain't get the damned memo...          
they tell me it's just a harmless rumor          
but i think my alter ego          
is talkin shit behind my back          
when i catch up with his ass          
there's gonna be a misunderstanding          
probably stab him in the jugular          
with my pen          
then maybe I'll be able to think straight          
instead of drinkin straight          
with no chaser          
to soothe my anxiety          
          
    
I'm a hot mess          
i confess          
can't tell the difference between          
scripture and scribble          
don't really know          
where these words are going          
maybe I'm the author          
maybe there's a ghostwriter movin my hand          
tryin to write my epitaph on the low          
feels like oppression through possession          
caught up in the poetic version          
of fight club          
          
    
who's pulling whose strings?          
          
    
i know i've been undermined          
too much shit remains undefined        
who speaks when the pen leaks?          
who seeks to breathe through these scriptures?          
am i simply a mannequin who          
dons multiple masks of unknown entities        
or am i my own man?          
          
    
i let you tell it
Written by Naajir
Published | Edited 19th Sep 2024
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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