My mind, my sight, who am i?
my dreams my life, who am i?
are you experienced? Are you delirious?
My eyes, my eye, who am i?
are you mysterious?
Are you curious, furious?
Are you serious?
I am imperious…
who am i?
You woke up this morning,
found yourself sucking on your thumb,
afraid this place aint like the place you’re from,
it looks the same, feels the same,
same old sky with the same old rain
but there’s something different in the sun,
there’s something in the way you run,
there’s something strange about the pain,
there’s something here, this is no fun.
schizotypically stable,
the schizotypal angel,
releasing symphonies both demonically harmonic
and socially disabled.
intrinsically intricate, meticulously deliberate and intimate,
prolificly poetic, ambivalent with ethics...too hectic...
reflective detective, respectably impressive,
aggressively recessive he's resentfully regressing
and attempting to prevent what it was the hell bent voices said.
the people in his head. the monsters in his bed.
you'll wish that you were dead.
Written by Andrew Brobyn
