Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts

Life in revision, listlessly we humble to pray
A clouded decision, upon which we shall say
You shall never break, that which you could never hold
Or shall you shake, a yearning so bold

We became firm, a place to stand
For the lack of a better term, sinking in sand
To Far Beyond driven, a firm place now
We take what is given, never mind how

Decided upon, which hill to lay a stone
Prayed for strong will, life’s riches to own
Built upon by users, only to show,
To enrich our futures with promise and hope

Find a new space, somewhere to fill
Away from the hate, with some time to kill
This world is a puzzle, one to solve
Escaping the bustle, a place to evolve

And when faced with an ending, you will find
This whole time you where bending, to be kind
It’s in your nature and it shows
It isn’t major, but we know

Memories of discontent, flood an absolute mind
Disappointing disassociation swarms every sane notion
To become lost, is but a finding of self
Diving into insanity is an utter deprivation

Never think, to only question why
These insanities have but one hold on us
The destruction of our own selves
We have nothing left

This rejection is an absence of self
Diluted in oceans of confusion
To become lost in our memories
Never to be seen again

This disillusionment is a fading of truth, that truth being reality. This feeling, could it be the void all over again. A sort of numbness, a fading of truth insistent upon a question. Have I seen this before? Can I tell the future? What comes next? This is a pulsation of numbness, and an overpowering loss of emotion. Reason is lost inside this fading of reality. Yes I do believe that this is the void.
Tell me please how long this will last. Faded inside like a dream. For, this reality is nothing more than a dream. But, how do we awaken? If we are stuck inside this dream till we die, does that mean death is the only way to wake?
There are more questions than answers. The void has me stuck. Is this purgatory, some sort of punishment? I know that regret is an illusion. Another form of control. We are stuck inside this dream and can’t wake up. I know I am dreaming because I feel completely detached from myself. Lost on some sort of other plain of existence. Some other reality. But I can see that I am perfectly locked inside of myself. If the void could be explained by a word, it would be purgatory.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton