clock toils its time—it's time for life,
life's most perilous grand journey.

the snake tightens its grip around his neck,
as he surfaces from bathtub's shallow water,
for it's not drowning that is his demise,
no—it's air's extinction.

the snake coils itself around his head, like a crown,
gifting him sleepless nights, full of waking man's nightmares:
the bottle's shards in the heart,
rejection's painful strikes deep in his mind.

his end begins with lack of every thing imaginable:
energy, strength, desire, happiness, hope, love.
like a ghost living amidst us, a mere shell of what is left of him.
day and night—a struggle—as his will leaves him bit by bit.

amidst the pendulum stands snake's poison—
so elusive and so dear.
it's incredible how much he chases the high,
finding solace in its terrible embrace.

his beginning ends with persecution.
endless stories told by hidden messages.
madness unfolded, spread and laid out like a path,
that he takes as soon as no-one's in touch.

and what is left of life's time?
gone, gone are the stars.

Sento il respiro denso,
Avido cerca aria.

Sento i Pensieri
Frenetici e convulsi,
Eccitare il mio ansito

Sento la mente fluttuare,
Dispoticamente velocizza
I miei fragili pensieri,
Quali come delicato vetro,
Cadono,
Frantumandosi,

Sento la luce
cercare spazio tra l’oscurità,
Raccoglie con ponderazione,
I cocci frantumati
del mio essere.

Sento il mio io egemone,
Concedermi la forza,
Frantumare con calma,
la mia malattia,
Riattare la mia essenza,
di essere Umana.

There’s a need for severe repetition
And when objects are out of position
A ritual practice
Restores the exactness:
Obsessive compulsive condition

From the pages of Peanuts came Linus
Neurotic but here to align us
From his blankie one learns
About coming to terms
Lest our character flaws should define us

Every morning the first thing
is do the subtraction
washing the body
from head to toe
drain all the crud
excretion
combing to get rid of some fallen hair
then do the addition
shove one capsule after another
down the stomach
when it's getting chilly
and there's no color green in front of you
take some vitamin C
to allow some green herbage
grow in your system
when it's dawn
and the sun keeps bouncing up and down
take some Prozac to reduce
the bumpiness of the road
when i was little
i was like a pill
trying to get into the tummy
the tummy was big and strong
and i was thrown all over the place
now the pill found that i was its rival
and had to tame my raging waves
i began to obey
the pill releases tenderness
and soothes me with a sanguine
emoji
it conducts the music
of the forest glade
inviting the swans
with its verdant melody
and my fingers no longer want
to reach the sky
my eyes choose the tranquility
of a placid lake
i even started liking the sound
of putrefaction that is not of impulse
but of delight in transiency
now i submit to this tiny ruler
mysterious yet earnest
that resides in the horizon
i like the freedom
i don't object to its amiability
nor its autocracy.

My feeling word is adjective.
My mood number is one to ten.
My goal was met, and now I get
To wonder when I'm free again.
I guess I'm unimaginative.

when you're on
the window ledge of life
people tell you
go see a psychiatrist
(get yourself some therapy)
I've been here a while
haven't drawn a crowd yet
but people are starting to notice
(I'm pretty unobtrusive)
even my own mother
didn't recognise me once
(she's part of the problem)
but that's another story
as I say been here a while
and I'm starting to enjoy
the view
if you don't look down
where all the problems are
but take in the horizon
crazy isn't a bad place to be
I see sunsets
flocks of birds
cloud formations
moon phases
starting to go ancient man brain
starting to cure myself
all that **** below me
doesn't matter
the cars, the people, the noise
pollution, war, ******
I've started to make
the ledge my home
moving in
I can jump any time I want
but find myself needing
another sunrise
blinding light of today
gradually illuminating a world
that really doesn't deserve it
people want me to get therapy
so I can live in a crazy world
how does that
make any kind of sense

Government regulators attempted to **** me
God's angels are the people that saved me
They created the problem buy giving the Dr the key
Escapades that spiralled like a birch tree
To suppress confessions and evidence
People were given unwanted medicine
Some ran but caught by the magnet resonance
Others 6 feet under, blessed by a church eminence
God help! Sadists and cannibals eat patients
Colluding in auditory nerves in acoustic vibrations
They are the nations NHS saviours
When people suffer they have secret celebrations
Looking for the innocent soul
Destroying with false reports and a troll
Exploiting every loophole
Services and public on a sly payroll
Pseudo science disease is a abomination
That of mental illness to the nation
That has brain washed the population
Truth will singe psychiatry to decimation

Confess, I have to confess.

Who's on the other side of my confessional?

I've thought wrong, I could've thought another, why can't I control what I think?

Confess it, lay your sin.

If I confess my thought, I fear it'll make it real. It's harmless in my head, it's abstract.

But is it?

Look at who you've hurt, the person you love. But never you, why would you care about you?

You should be perfect. Be your best self.

When my best self is deconstructed, all I am is fear.

So confess it, lay your burdens on another.

Be selfish, lay your irrationality for someone else to detangle.

Your strength is fragile, trust me.

I know you,

I know all of you, your deepest fear, your subconscious.

Trust me, you're all that I am.

So confess, give in.

I'm your religion, I'm your truth.

The truth is,
you're not worth love.

Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter