Image for the poem Schizophrenic Scripture

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  
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 27th Dec 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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