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Customized Confusion

Contributed by Diatribe on Monday, 10th May 2004 @ 09:15:21 PM in AEST
Topic: psychoticpoems

I don’t need my glasses to see you for who you are. In fact, I don’t need my vision at all. Just the sound of the lies that spew from your mouth is enough evidence to prove to me that you’re a disease. And I have the cure. Bound, gagged and tied to the tracks. I’ll stand by your side. I’ll even hold your hand. Pity it won’t be attached to your arm at this point, but it’s the thought that counts, right… and it’s too bad these railroad tracks are abandoned. It’s like being a kid again. I’m the “cop” and you’re the “robber”, or is it the other way around. Maybe it’s neither. Maybe you’re just the a**hole and I’m the sick ***** living out the fantasy of being crazy. Is it a fantasy when you really are crazy? I’m barely awake. Still clutching your hand, but it fades and you’re whole again. And my straight jacket seems a little too tight. Can I try on a different size? Plus this isn’t really my color. C’mon… white? It tends to show dirt too easily and I’m a dirty boy. And every time I step outside these padded walls I realize I was never in there to begin with. But they were always within me. I once again find myself along side the railroad tracks walking still. Looking back at what’s in front of me. But they were never railroad tracks and I was never me. I’m barely sleeping. I’m barely dreaming. And I hardly ever think of you. I could never remember anything, but I always seem to figure it out. Randomized nonsense. Customized confusion. Internal secretion. Creative collaboration. Is this freedom? Who are you and who am I? And I hope you’re paying rent for the room and board that’s in my mind!

Copyright Â© Diatribe ... [ 2004-05-10 21:15:21]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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