Everything is Psychosis
A stream of consciousness poem
Modern life is psychosis A steady flatline keeps me going as white noise Motion blurs in peripheral surrealest paintings Reality is surrealist I live in psychosis Is what I think real if nobody else can hear them speaking Noiseless noise My head is crowded but there's no one here Everybody is screaming Nobody's lips are moving I talk to myself as placebo effect Mouths as the messenger to the ears as the messenger to the mind but who speaks to the mind if I vocalize nothing Silence Speaks A ghostly ego skin white face flushed brittle hands pulling the roots of keratin to dig through the porous soil pluck the root of consciousness and mankind screams incessantly while looking at me everybody is looking at me They see my mutinous mutation through poorly tinted eyes within the veiled walls of flesh I am under white light vulnerable and curled like a newborn in the cranial walls and anxious like a naive innocence of the world yet so scared of it They all know that I'm really a fraud who doesn't exist or take lightly to existence ready to crumble at the passing breath or the dart of a sharp stare I walk and run back and forth in my head banging at every point of the wall for a new exit to appear daring to make one myself if necessary yet I keep walking I make eye contact I see the vessel of another conscious mind in front of me and their eyes catch mine so I nod and they nod but they smile, and nod back. We keep walking.
Brad you have a gift!! Love this!! Keep it up!!
This reads like lyrics to a Talking Heads song! Plus that image is great :)