Late Night Musings and Obsessions with Death

Paranoia (tw)

are you watching me?
i can feel your eyes
staring through the back
of my head, and it
disturbs me greatly

i can feel your gaze
boring into my skull
please, please don't hurt me
but i turn around
and you are not there

so am i seeing–
things? am i feeling–
things? how do i know
what's real and not real?
am i paranoid?

and i hear your voice
and i turn around
alas! you are not there!
and you – what are you?
ah! a figment of my
fickle imagination

am i hearing things?
am i seeing things?
is it all in my
imagination?
oh! how can i live
feeling eyes on me?

get out of my head!
i scream, trying to
control the demons
that run amok in
my traitorous brain

and my hands, shaking
type this poem that just
does not rhyme, making–
making me feel sad,
feel unaccomplished.

when the voices are
yelling, pushing for
dominance, i can't
bear the touch of my
friends and family

so when i tell my
mother to please stop
touching me, it hurts
it is only my mind
trying to salvage
what is left of me

i plea, mother dear
it is not your fault
but mine, oh! my fault
that my mind is quite
overtaxed with these
senses, sensations

and my distorted,
ravaged hearing sends
chills down my spine, oh–
please! please stop the noise
it hurts! it hurts! please!

and you fill my ears
with savage dreams of
death, blood, pain, abuse!
and my confused mind
responds with pleasure!

no wonder i cannot stand
the sound of a human
voice or the pain of
human touch when i
am fighting myself

fighting these morbid
fantasies of death,
torture, worse! what is
wrong with me? why can't
i escape these thoughts?

why am i just so–
just so powerless?