Psyche Dancing For Adepts

Illness, psychosis, and trauma

Perfectly juggled with masterful precision

In such a delicate balance

The endeavor of a lifetime

Is required to maintain.

At any cost it must be;

The slightest disturbance could upset,

Unleashing a therapy session’s worth of stress

Upon any unsuspecting victim

Unfortunate enough to present.

Caution is a necessity.

Every potential interaction is a threat

That could jeopardize this balance.

Teetering on the brink of collapse

Leaves little room for distraction.

Careful bursts of madness,

As in the chaotic illogical products

Of a strained and imprisoned mind,

Must be regularly expressed

Within these constraints.

Fatigue, loneliness, and irritability,

Exacerbated symptoms from all sources

With little but solitude, reflection,

And continual effort

As a reward.

With luck and practice,

One may survive long enough

In such a fragile and frigid state

To become numb or indifferent,

Or maybe self-aware.

In one form or another

This precarious dance must inevitably end.

Whether stumbling to ruin, wearing out entirely,

Or relinquishing enough

To transcend.

 

Story Tellers

Watching words will read you,

Willingly or not. As it were,

We’re read as readers.

Eyes watching eyes see

Watching ourselves on T.V.

A subversive narrative is only

Narrative not yet subverted.

All writing is fiction as

All perceptions are hollow.

Naked words reveal nothing.

 

One thought fills immensity,

Well, it may as well,

As immeasurably limited is the Id,

The psyche soundly snug

In conceptual bliss.

Emptiness laughs to see

Loneliness subverted by such

Rationalized madness and

Imaginative beliefs.

Nature clings to anything,

Latching onto whatever’s present,

Precarious as it might be,

Only hoping to survive.

People pretend their whole lives,

Acting, dressing, watching, and telling.

At ease with their lies,

If at least it makes a good story.