Artificial

Poetry

My eyes won’t open
This is a surprise
Inside a freezing examination room
I’m on the central table, naked
Eyelids stitched closed, memory erased
Why am I here?
I feel how their empty faces stare at me
Eyes scan through, I am their product
Numerical identity, a bar code
I refuse to listen, the words fade away
Arms and legs in leather restraints
They butcher me like a pig
Breathing is a chore, when organs are
Taken one by one
My stomach is almost hollow, but I’m still alive
Our future celebrates technological sadism
They all look like me
I don’t even know which one is real
Love and rational thought is easily practiced
Humanity fooled, destroyed
Thinking is only a code
How many like me have been here before?
In need to be fixed
I could be like them, consciousness micro-shipped
How will I ever know if I’m artificial?
How will I ever know if my feelings are real?

 

On Medication

Poetry

Taking the pill again
To feel how she should
Sweat beads roll down
Like purest pearls
On her back
On her chest
And her hands
Sipping her sins
Drinking her worries
She drowns, gets up and drowns again
It pulls her in with a chain
Around her ankles, around her neck
She swallows the bubbles
Others are fine
They breathe how they should
While she’s on the dry land
A flapping fish
People passing by:
“Why is she so low?”
Taking the pill again
To feel better again
To feel how she should
But man,
We should stop pretending
Or else we will turn into
bridges for people to walk over

Reptilian Blues

Poetry

The beast within lingers
Like a snake deeply hidden
Somewhere inside my skin
Bones replacing branches of feral amazonian trees
It’s twisted around my ribs
Just an inch to stop me from breathing
If the sun rays were scalpels
I would ask to be cut open
To be reborn again
My blood flows like a river
I’m alive but not living
There’s something in me
And it keeps slithering
Words taste like slime
I don’t say anything
I feel defeated

Silence

Poetry, Writing

The hidden beast remains untamed
Lingering away from chains
Between torn walls and tangled dendrites
A false refugee playing the victim

As the thunderstorm roars
Like your mother outside the door
Blaming herself- for you being broken
She’s a fuming kettle about to explode

You hide like a criminal under the bed
and count the days until freedom
Planning the ways to get hit by lightning
Thinking of methods to kill that monster inside you
Taking the role of incendiary
Burning those bridges
So that others can’t get to you

Close to the edge
It’s hard to see clearly
The fog is blinding
It’s not that you are okay
But they couldn’t ask politely

She prefers if you died on the phone lines
If you waited in silence
If you became silence

People are too lost they have ears but
they suffer from deafness
Your screams are pointless if no one can hear them

Soot

Poetry

You are not a phoenix
If you have stopped burning
You are a fish inside a fish bowl, turning in a circle
Conditioned to the isolating space
Those coral reefs of possibilities
Are disguised as prison gates
Viscous seaweed morphs your reality
Replaces it with subjective fantasy
The one where you preach positivity
But truly your heart is like a rotten tooth
A cavity that we could not drill through
The answers are clearer than glass
It’s not our responsibility to soothe
If it’s covered in nothing but soot
What happened to the advice
You asked for, but forgot to take?
Our words are just a mistake
Because they scratch the surface
Hurting your precious ego
It’s better to pretend, to build a dream world
Out of nothing, to walk on ashes
Pretending it’s star dust
To say that you are shining, when you are fading away
When will you learn for goodness sake
That fake smiles don’t mean anything

Stitched in poetry

Poetry

I am a muslin cloth stitched in poetry
This heart string embroidery
I am an artwork
But they don’t look at me
Repelled by worry
I keep it together with a needle and thread
Stitching away thoughts
They won’t escape
Moments like years, too long
My sanity is a patchwork
A blanket from an old people’s home
Left near the bins in the charity shop
Fallen apart too many times
I don’t even know, who am I?
Keep tying knots, saying no
Still, the stitches keep appearing
But I’m always unfinished
If anyone needs me, please complete me