Wednesday, April 6, 2016
A poem by Gary G Pelow,, On Fire.
I am on fire, my imagination burns out of control, I see enemies everywhere, I do not know who to trust. Is that red pickup truck following me? Are there unseen enemies behind its darkened, tinted glass? I am afraid, I do not know what is real or what is the psychotic ramblings of my mind, I struggle to tell the difference between the two, Is that person over there on their cell phone talking about me to my enemies? Or am I wrong for thinking so? I do not know what to do, I do not know reality anymore, if I ever could in the past, my mind is feverish with raw terror and agitation. Are my two roommates talking about me? Laughing at me? Are they plotting against me? I do not know, I can not tell. My body is wracked with tremors of paranoia and delusions, I am a person disconnected from humanity, who I want to rejoin, but I can not seem to accomplish this, I am lost to a spinning world of fantasy, or nightmares. I try not to think and feel this way, it is hard to cope these days, I am no danger to anyone, not even myself, but I feel horrible and trapped in a prison of emotion and broken logic, logic is no longer in me. I try to go out to talk to my friends, such as they are, and it is difficult to walk through the door to go outside, lest my enemies follow me and plot against me, these terrible, fake phantoms of Schizophrenia. I will be going to the doctor soon, in two weeks, I will discuss with her my terrible, empty world of barren isolation, she will prescribe something and I will take it, if it does any good, I suppose with out it things would be worse, an even stronger world of fever and terror, I only exist, I do not live, I do not know how.