My quest for a King has brought me to an asylum full of the infirmed and disordered.
Predators and prey, cannibals and vampires.
Delusional and quixotic, the lot of them.
The putrefied and juvenile, and the inconsistent shifters.
The aggressive and feeble, the narcissists and dull empaths.
Liars, decenters, inflictors, users, abusers, and addicts.
The mean and merciless; the killers of soul and spirit.
The catatonic screams of the lost, echo and shiver.
They are all, dysfunctional and unevolved.
They are the dead and un-dead, the killers and the victims.
Sadists and deviants who smell of death and seamen.
They are unbalanced and deranged.
A paradox of extremes.
A dichotomy of dissipations and excesses.
They are decaying infants, lost inside their animal brains.
They are either orthodox militants or apathetic failures.
They are faithless radicals; egocentric, promiscuous cult leaders, fucking with Kool-aide as a lubricant and false rhetoric as an excuse.
The beautiful outsides are disguises for the demon possessed.
The ugly are emotional retards.
They are brilliant idiots.
Paranoid and judgmental. Preaching hypocrites.
The therapy is useless.
The councilors are corrupt inmates.
I’m hiding in the middle of this shit storm of the insane.
This Eden was once thriving, but the parasites ate all the color.
I have no hope.
Release or recovery?
My King doesn’t even know I’m here." Trapped in an Asylum
Poetry Collection -
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