Abused paranoia

When their eyes settle on you and you cannot shake the feeling.

She stares from across this distance,
perhaps she thinks I don't see,
perhaps I seem blind?
I see your whispers, taunting me.

Find myself on the ceiling,
cowering. Violently
clawing at this flesh.
They scuttle after me, laughing.

The corner no longer holds
its once beautiful appeal,
even here they hiss.
She is staring at me again.

why won't she stop staring?

Yearn to jump, screaming at them:
'What is it you want from me?'
Blood upon my wrists.
They crowd fragile flesh-covered bones.

I run, desperate to escape,
wherever I dance, she's there.
Fall into water,
the sweet escape of virginal murder.

A desire grips scarred cells.
As a dead weight I plummet
into her abuse.
Pain blooms through lesions of fierce flame.

She taints perfect suicide,
stripped bare I am turned savage;
twist through resistance,
and claw the beast's eyes from her skull.

Even purifying depths,
can't cleanse this blackened disgust.
Her soul is lacking
her abusive tips penetrate me.

This weightlessness defines me;
disjointed marrow encased
within tortured fear.
Inside this cage I find my wings.

With frayed feathers I leap forth.
Desperation to find peace
from her constant cuts.
I'm taken, bound by mother's breeze.

Sigh into wind as it brings
me home. Unconstrained at last.
My catacomb waits
to embrace my shattered remains.

I come to alight upon
beautifully moist warm moss.
Breathe in, stench of it.
And step forth into death's embrace.

Now my catacomb (such hush)
Is the only place where moss,
dank and innocent,
shall reside; such recognition.
Such sweet alluring life.
To mark my fabulous death.

Reviews

[_mal]

This is amazing. You've captured something here

[cartera]

Every word chosen carefully to fit the subject and tone of the poem. Paranoia is a disease that most of us only have in small intermittent doses, to suffer it deeply in this described manner rings true to me. The life and death swing at the end is excellent.
Good stuff.
ATB
Alex.

[Ruth]

Such depth! The emotions are a roller coaster without brakes here! Wonderfully dark and stirring!
I am left reeling from your talent of conveying so much in such a well structured poem!
xx

[Roger Morrison]

Wow.. a dark portrait of a dead-end mind, really haunting. Great grotesque imagery, almost like two tales in one, a twisted love story and deep psychological horror. This is really great.

[Viper]

A wicked thing the mind, oh and the many games it will play if allowed to.

You are very talented, so well written and the use of many clever phrases.
a couple of favorites in this piece are
"I see yoour whispers taunting me" and "stripped bare I am turned to savage"

[Nobody.]

mmm. the feeling of flight. the darkness. the anger and aggro are breathtaking, and, yet, quite love as the images unfold in the mind of this reader. well done!
Cheers!
R.G.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Painted vivid images in my mind of one walking on the ceiling, growing tattered wings and escaping from a cage, constantly being pursued by death's grasp and finally giving in........dark and delicious.