Mental Patient

 
 
A sage in the cage of a newborn
Hell has been lukewarm  
Since I remember
 
Love has been daggers severing my spine
I never thought I would walk again.
My brain outgrew the vessel
Longing for acceptance from Rejects
I always saw a picture of a better world
They still reject  
In crim-sin reflection
My decibels so-low my vibration
Was distilled...
 
A hand full of pills
A pool of blood full of misery
The untrained eye could not see
I’d dip the brush in it and paint  
Until my heart pumped air and novas
 
 
My Nervous systems had to
Became one with the solar
My neck used to be one with my shoulders
I was a slouch.
 
Emotionally dead, before it was cool
Woke when it was still called consciousness  
I’d dream,
Dream of a plain that would understand my walk
Teachers packed me in boxes in fear of their inferiority, or recognition of my potential
 
I was depressed
Repressed,  
Distressed
Dead..
 
Maniacal Die-visible light blinded me
A confused
Abused Hue-man
 
Looking for answers everywhere but inside
As if the worlds beauty could compare to the Only rational mammal on this planet
Succubus stole touches and  
Witches were mistresses  
 
So many nights I awoke, feeling choked
Shadows have wanted my soul before
I was aware of its location
My life, was stolen from me
By thoughts, that were never mine.
I worked overtime to form a shrine;
Of my mind,
 
A temple to charge lost sols  
In the same system seeking truth
You can read the akashic records in my Melanin.
I am an open book...
 
How? The process.
What process? Hell.
In all it’s coolness.
 
Then I found heaven in me
A haven for me to be
A solitude that eludes the refuse
Of a world two far gone.
 
Baltimore, Murda-land
My heart is tattooed on the streets
In sidewalk chalk of youths  
And homicide traces by police.
 
Have you ever heard the click of a gun
Pressed firmly against your temple
As it jammed?

Damn I was 14
 
I killed myself a long time ago
My gift to the world.
A brand new me.
 
One that appreciates the swing of a tree
The smell of smoke and joy in the breeze
4 padded walls  
And a diagnosis of mental dis-ease
Is where I found this ease.
 
This love for walls that didn’t get wet as they talked to me
This love for silences harmony  
My psychiatrist, counselor, and therapist;  
A dream team.
That missed every shot.
Because what the hell was in those needles?
 
Complacency?
Pain?
Numbness?
 
No thank you.
 
I shredded the dopest books I could find  
Into a fine refined liquid that I would inject
Into my helix until I breathed it effortlessly.
 
Behold A Pale Horse’
 
The Way of Peace
 
The Art of War
 
48 Laws Of Power, Used by the powers that be
 
The Scribes of Thomas and Emerald Tablets spoke to the celestial me.
 
Yes enough reading...
 
Now Numerology, to calculate my destiny
Etymology to dispel the dismal “Spelling” of a Pseudo Latin Bastard language
We were programmed to read backwards in the first place.
 
Because the sun rises in the east and sets in the West yes..
Now my words are on the right compass
I researched until my eyes blistered trying to find myself..
 
 
Now I am at peace.
 
Because I am me
 
And I know it
 
And that is enough.