The Psyche’s Margin of Limbo

There within

the dense, foggy lapses of reality,

I find myself alone;

Disengaged and catatonic,

As the absence of spirit eludes me.

I am barely within the compounds

Of this jagged-edged limbo –

This drifting piece of what is and what is not.

Nonsensical ramblings

Erupting like an angel’s fine trumpet –

Though, in a not-so-far-away distance,

I taste the tangy nip

Of that heavy, sour storm of numbness awaiting.

Ever so near to me;

But a stone’s throw away

hidden behind the shadows.

Nothing more than the mere dust of others

That I place my feet upon;

And I weep quietly as I hum a lullaby for the Fallen.

I am so much more than just lost, my friend.

I fell head first into confusion –

And oh, how it warps into

Such a beautifully, chaotic delusion!

I am circling about;

As if a feral, rabid shark could be as one –

One alive;

One of lore,

One of me.

I will never be free of insanity;

Forever locked in the deep recesses of the mind’s filthy pool.

I could never be one of strength –

For the devil tore my heart out

Upon my deliverance.

Ate it up

And just walked on by without a shiver to his brow.

And tell me, my dear –

Just what is there left beneath my feet,

Around my gravity,

Beyond the skies,

When the entirety of my being

Was mishandled from the start?

Placed before me were greedy, dirty hands

That took my innocence

And raped my rationality.

And, oh, how they dare to spit on my name!

To defile my offspring

And decapitate our spring of life!

But yet,

I know,

That in my pitiful, desperate pleas,

I am only that but of a misfit toy.

Lost among those who cannot be named.