Necroscope

Chronicles the struggle of slipping into delusional psychosis.

A necroscopy is a dangerous procedure.

It’s never voluntary, yet you 

enter it willingly.

You don’t realize when it begins

or when it ends

or when it begins again

Someone from the outside has to 

pull you out of it

out of 

the pit

the cave

the grave dirt

You can’t do it on your own.

you can’t stop it

the psychomanteum

In perpetuem

One foot off the merry go round 

is two feet firmly planted

on the psychomanteum

disorientated, 

confused, 

terrified, 

certain. 

The one rule of the necroscope  is:

you can’t tap out

fear is king for some

fantasy is king for others

Your legs tucked up under your chin

you’re cramped up in the dark

surrounding you are wooden panels…

time to plug the top and 

roll the barrel, Houdini

We necroscoped together, months

For me fear was king

For you, perhaps not always

  perhaps never

For you, you were king

Does this help any? We don’t know.

A world where everyone is nice to each other,

colors, you told me, colors

lil’ heaven, you spoke of.

Try not to miscalculate when you were never taught mathematics

You hit mysterious buttons on the spaceship

Until one does something

Usually it's just a trick; surrounded by disguised tricksters

Incognito 

buttons lead to more puzzles

Necroscopy is as much a journey

inside yourself, emic

As it is

Around you, etic

ex-situ

You have read all the books and manuals

have access to the grand library

your unable to solve

what puzzles you

… is everything, once ordinary is 

Simply not. 

You wonder if it ever was

Question truth

Adjudicate

Upon realizing it doesn’t matter

You reprioritize

But you can’t help it, assigning an arbitrary locality

Episteme is there

Dianoia is there

Beyond the shadowous threshold of the cave

But you are worse off than being shackled

You’re free and the demarcation waits.

It teases you, taunts you, silently

It waits. 

In fact this is a mirage, again. A construct of the mind

that you see life beyond the cave

you are blind

completely blind

blind the whole time

but shadows still haunt you

Your rage only affects the weather now

Your advice comes from the men beyond your computer

on the air

broadcast

acute observers

indirect commenters on 

a reality shattered to an illogical amalgamation 

of kaleidoscopic montage

persists throughout your 

synesthesiac confluence

Until gradually its not, you wake up

by an outside other

rescued

the only way

If you share the necroscopic arena

If you co-speculate

If you plan

If you puzzle-solve

If you dig and claw

You will not ever return, deeper it will pull you

down

all the way

down

to the bottomless trench

like poor Paul, poor Paul

infinite regress

Slowly you begin to see again; clarity; confluence

You exit the necroscope

But you never forget it

Upon return, you can’t shake it

1. use its introspective qualities 

2. don't adjudicate 

3. shrug the rest

“weird”

Author's Note

Please comment