The Psyche’s Margin of Limbo
There within
the dense, foggy lapses of reality,
I find myself alone;
Disengaged and catatonic,
As the absence of spirit eludes me.
I am barely within the compounds
Of this jagged-edged limbo –
This drifting piece of what is and what is not.
Nonsensical ramblings
Erupting like an angel’s fine trumpet –
Though, in a not-so-far-away distance,
I taste the tangy nip
Of that heavy, sour storm of numbness awaiting.
Ever so near to me;
But a stone’s throw away
hidden behind the shadows.
Nothing more than the mere dust of others
That I place my feet upon;
And I weep quietly as I hum a lullaby for the Fallen.
I am so much more than just lost, my friend.
I fell head first into confusion –
And oh, how it warps into
Such a beautifully, chaotic delusion!
I am circling about;
As if a feral, rabid shark could be as one –
One alive;
One of lore,
One of me.
I will never be free of insanity;
Forever locked in the deep recesses of the mind’s filthy pool.
I could never be one of strength –
For the devil tore my heart out
Upon my deliverance.
Ate it up
And just walked on by without a shiver to his brow.
And tell me, my dear –
Just what is there left beneath my feet,
Around my gravity,
Beyond the skies,
When the entirety of my being
Was mishandled from the start?
Placed before me were greedy, dirty hands
That took my innocence
And raped my rationality.
And, oh, how they dare to spit on my name!
To defile my offspring
And decapitate our spring of life!
But yet,
I know,
That in my pitiful, desperate pleas,
I am only that but of a misfit toy.
Lost among those who cannot be named.