Schizoaffective

Have you ever woke up?
In cold sweats
Voices already baring down
Something akin to regret
It's brethren
The moment I awake
I feel like I'm dreaming
Invasive thoughts speaking
They're creeping
My mood's waning
Most days I feel like I want to die
The moment I open my eyes
  
How I wish to receive peace of living in the deepest of sleep
Most nights I'd like to slip peacefully amongst death's reap
But prayers and unheard wishes go ungranted
And unfortunately I gotta get up and be me
Deal with these problems
These voices
This part of me
An Eternal Internal monolog that doesn't turn off
And faces I can see
Not out here with you and me
No I can't explain
But  It's as vivid as a hallucination

More a akin to a day dream
Auto piolet and I ask you to repeat things
I can't focus... I can't get a grip on the conversation
I walk pointlessly until I realize I'm out of touch with reality
Do a few grounding techniques...
Maybe take my medicine...
Write some poetry or perhaps a new script
This is part of being me
Keep your hands busy so your mind can't be a bully
Don't dissociate, remember your in public
Oh man is she angry, did she notice?
Or was that a past life... she doesn't judge me for those things
She understands... when I admit that I am sick

Recently I've learned a few things
And that it's been a possibility
That I've been living with a form of schizophrenia
Undiagnosed but not quite unnoticed
I never exposed voices I was letting
Collect and affect me
They take up faces
Of those who are closest
They Attack and destroy me
They know everything

My mind expresses pain through stories and metaphors
You can sit there and think it's creative
My writing has been a form of public self dissection
I can't tell if its for the mutilation
If I get off on the humiliation
Of seeing the degradation of myself over the years

As the sickness got worse, the writing got frequent
As the voices grew loud, it was mine
That grew calm through an artform
That was a cry for help

Like always going back to the quill
Attempting to empty a bottle of ink
To get to the bottom of this thing, I think
It Resides in the way I think
It's strength brings me to the brink
A pain that runs my whole length
Center yet out of frame
I know that doesn't make any sense
But that's the point I'm trying to make
This voice urges me to do everything I write against
Even suicide
I try to tell myself this isn't real
But I can't convince myself to not believe the things I feel
This is part of me
This is my life, and as it turns out, I am schizoaffective