Where who I how

I am blue

my breathless face is blue

The afternoon is far to blue

I sit a thousand eons

in my purgatory of ignorance

mental illness is collective trauma.

Stand down, unseat my lofty notions.

Cultural superiority forget your place

embrace accountability for slights

I see but long to feel.

Torment my waking terrors.

Finger self inflicted wounds

peel the pain beneath the scabs

slice away my lids with razor blades

and lay ever awake, enlightened

yet clueless of the torchers flame

cast onto thatch erasing

an abode behind doors secrets

burning within. my pyromanic rage

scorched tale is left in rubble

scavenged from my soul of empty halls.

A building vacated where floors

lay one on top the other

I pretend to dance beneath

a glitter ball suspended in imagining.

Come closer

feel the breath across the lobe

tingeling sensuality

peeling me off of splattered

abstract strobe lit silhouette

a realisation not a relief.

I am blue

You are sick.

I am?

Yes you are come

let me help.