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Tag: Mental Health

Liminal me.

As I close my eyes I see the writhing squirming impossible beasts in the darkness.

They appear aware of me but go unconcerned on their way in this singular forever.

Uncontrollable visions from countless worlds of skies and lands and machines.

Everything just for a split second enough to recognise but not make out.

Waking dreams of uncertain sanity under a microscope for each thought or part thereof.

Never close enough to be fully unobscured there’s a clarity so fragmented it distracts.

A modern and ancient view of everything that was and will be in an electric memory that isn’t mine.

Fear of death absorbed by an accepted geometry concealing chaos unstoppable.

Time became nothing, hours just imagined, traversable by thought.

Longer than forever in the blink of an eye.

Beings of fire and metal looking out over oceans of unexplainable patterns.

A collection of everything ever seen, thought, imagined, or forgotten.

A living and moving permanent giant of unknown rock holding this universal memory.

Everything is alive without exception, connection to everything else all the time.

All is possible, just look. Immolated feathery gods explaining uplifted relics.

A calmness takes place at the same time as a beautiful wall of light separates us.

Joined across something bigger than eternity inside the smallest part of a galaxy.

Impossible coincidences just obvious intentionally made bridges between two places.

Everywhere in every direction, a puzzle that solves itself by never ending.

I saw the start and end and everything inbetween of everything there was, is,  and will be, all at the same time.

I open my eyes and take back the illusion of control for the time being.

Just bang like a death

Not a tender beat in that heart.

Cramp-like pain in the chest, and a headache that never stops.

The ink-black horrors when my eyes close.

With mouths peeled apart, as if to engulf.

A dark blue light with flickering shadows, watching everything as if from a fire.

A jade elephant sentry, at the gate to the red hill.

Smiling greasy faces in bliss oblivious, is it a warning?

Effortlessly fingerpainted masterpieces of a certain style I made in my mind.

Distracted and gone, but then back, almost but never.

Suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you breathed.

Realisation: a death of the self.

He’s not breathing.

The Monster

You can tell when the monster is talking. It’s obvious.

The man becomes quiet and he can’t remember what happened.

Furious judgement, obsessed anger.

Then, a switch flips and away with narcissism.

Reason and peace, until the next time.

Ups are getting shorter and further apart.

Downs are deeper and longer.

One day, the downs will be all there is, after one final miserable up.

And who will know?

In the darkness, alone.

©2024 David Newton