A pulse, vibrating in motion
Waves of discontent flowing forth
We are reality’s fools
Our breaking points aligned
Indecent to assume a certain truth
The door, broken and splintered
We tamper with a thought
Just to throw it all away
Rushing thoughts rearranged
Withering heights reaching out
Are we the ones we seek
The right to be sedated
In time we will know
Are we there yet
The taste, bloody kisses
The pulsing once again
We want to push away
The certainty we were looking for
Always dressed in an impression
An intriguing and impressional death
Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts 