A Schizophrenic's Journal

I

Strained eyes for brief second close

A sleeping pulse ignites as anticipation and anxiety grows

With the 13^th hour's chime killing midnight's silence

As the cacophonous echo consumes empty passageways seeking penance

While pall bearers prepare once more for their solemn procession

Murderers of troubled souls they are; giving no release from the abjection

Trembling footsteps upon checkered marble pace

As shadows speak their treachery while having yet no face

Where upon padded walls pseudo-innocent memories reside

Colorful renditions drawn in crayon where childhood demons hide

For the sun no longer shines through crayola panes

Through which endless hours are spent dreaming of dancing in summer rains

Wondering when the sun's warmth will once more caress this wayward soul

And sleepless eyes can rest reclaiming from them what was once stole

II

Fragments of colored paper are strewed across the floor

With every footstep's breath they dance; calling they do implore

A shattering soul lies wandering aimlessly

As nightmares dressed as memories test a weakened mind's fragility

With every passing second revealing a nearly forgotten detail

That should have remained hidden within the shadows yet they prevail

Their raspy screams resound and threaten

Falling upon ears on a plane between Hell and Heaven

Amongst the insane within these walls serenity is granted

As glassy eyes stare blankly through an imaginary window enchanted

Upon an artificial sunrise burned within unrested sight

Surrounded by walls once untainted, pure white

Now a technicolor biographical tome

Bidding a wayward spirit; welcome home

III

Fleeting days to fleeting years

Memories remain an incumbent of self-induced fears

As once vibrant eyes turned lifeless, medications' pawn

Awaken reluctantly to a fluorescent dawn

With silent whispers replacing consciousness

Singing a lullaby that does not bring rest

While accompanied by the tapping of hard rubber soles

Resounding through dimly lit corridors and sedated souls

Death's hands carry forth unto hell their creation

Until the footfalls cessation

When the mind numbing silence is replaced by the eerie jingle of keys

And a lock's tumbler clicks the final countdown answering final pleas

Setting a resolution date

One day early yet one day too late

IV

The evening that the resolution came

It vanished that evening just the same

An escape that vaguely did just seem

To fade away like a childhood dream

With tongue now numbed

Light-headed; mind has succumbed

Staring blankly under heavy sedation

Motionless in desolate isolation

Memories flicker as if a fragile flame

Once again just a number without a name

Sitting upon the floor of a room often forgotten

A prodigal son once; now no longer begotten

Eyes dance behind lids' reluctant closure

As medications' grasp weakens; relinquishing hold of its stolen treasure

V

Thoughts like wildfire have began to run

A birth of a new dawn yet remaining under the glare of a fluorescent sun

Rubbing temples gently caress

Through their lies inner demons do confess

Returning consciousness forcibly willed

Perception of time no longer distilled

Tiny marks have kept time covering the walls and door

With pieces of plaster big and small now lining the checkered floor

The lights flicker, a shadow stirs, welcome home old friend

As black and white merge, there is no gray, this tunnel has no end

In the midst of sound's last breath

Tumblers once again rise and fall with a whisper's death

Silence has a new chapter to the story wrought

An exit's gift a soul has bought

VI

By rite of passage through deafness, awareness is reawakened

Sanity now tangible flexes and does bend

Down an endless passageway countless footsteps are taken

Though memories and thoughts constantly battle yet both have been forsaken

Motion constant yet standing still

No clocks in sight with time to kill

As an indentured spirit unexpectedly found

A timid mind to a fevered heart is bound

Casting aside the corpse of an existence no longer needed

Homage paid to a master whose words are perpetually heeded

Imagination is the result of reality's abjection

Poised before a mirrored glass the image beheld is not a reflection

To and fro gazing upon the ultimate corporeal question

To have a life living in Hell or grasping death within Heaven

??