‘the kiss of schizophrenia and its divine gifts’

—- these uncensored images, the curse always so hot. the bright lights always spreading more warmth through the curtains. a frigid window that the breath fogs up with.

this lost existence. life slowly becoming a permanent dream state. another phantom frequency to be cast out and never invited in,

(you see, I’ve gotten a lot better at deciphering them)

but the fingerprints always stick to the distortion of it. another sharp transition in an unseen direction, like a compass that’s always spinning in circles. a permanent whiplash, a mental overload,

like talking in a hundred different languages all at once. where the medication may help dull the transmission, but my mind has to be strong enough to return them all back to sender.