Insanity Poetry Novels & Stories

‘Have you started writing poems? I chuckle inwardly at what my subconscious asks me. I have heard that people become poets in love and I have used only a few words to praise him. I think, yes? I chuckle once again, taking a deep breath. After spending two hours in that position, I came out of there. Today my day goes by roaming alone like this. Sanam comes by evening and eats dinner with me. We talked a lot while eating food. If he wanted, he would still feed me with his hands, but I do not like to trouble him again and again.

“I know.” It was all well and good that they were both sorry, but it didn’t change anything. It wasn’t some magical fix. Knight couldn’t just stop working so much, not unless he was willing to let someone help him. Sue couldn’t say that, though, not without their fight picking right up where they left it. It was a well-known saying that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Sue was starting to feel pretty damn insane. Sue was so tired of fighting, so, it was time to try something else.

Rex’s mind was confused, muddled and mixed with contrasting desires. He felt so stoned now. Even more stoned than he had never been in his life "Lord, I'm going to die… this is insane!" "I know it’s insane…It's okay to be insane…. And you won’t die…" she whispered reassuringly, and he could hear the smile in her voice. " if you die, I die now because the insanity has catch up with both of us… and am allowing you to be fully insane tonight… because I had long gone insane as well… so… don’t hold back… let go wild together… me and you tonight… okay?”

BEAT! I pour the last dregs of my will, my sanity, into that impossible image. Forcing the torrential chaos through the crucible of my scars, compressing it, shaping it with the only template I have: the defiant pulse of existence itself. The pressure inside me peaks. A silent detonation. The funneling chaos… snaps.

I was getting really impatient and angry. “It will happen when your whole existence falls under darkness…the darkness shall rule over you,over everything you know” His lips formed words, but he wasn't using words at all. It was making images appear before my eyes. Images of babies dying. Images of death. Images of people throwing babies into darkness and attacking innocent people. Images of children dying horribly in unimaginable ways. Images of someone I loved losing himself to madness and insanity. I covered my eyes with my hands just to block the vision from entering my brain, because no matter what, I didn't want to see this any longer.

CHAPTER 89 SANTIAGO They say when madness is never just the state of one psychological state, it is the state of the heart as well. At this moment I wasn't even disputing the fact that I was totally insane. I was insane about everything, I was insane at the speed or was going at and I couldn't even stop it — I was insane about life, love and my lust. Everything looked like it was stuck in one part of my brain and I had to deal with it.

She could taste the bitter taste of betrayal, that pungent thing that stuck to her taste buds and stayed there until the young woman went mad with so much bitterness. She wanted to believe that it would give the final card of her insanity, finally letting what was supposed to come out be let loose, but to her chagrin, as horrible as it was, everything inside her chest seemed to be just another Tuesday. The normality of that feeling was enough for her mind to shut down, that insane debate just lingering in the damn lull that lingered there. Artemisia wished she had been floorless, desolate and broken, full of faces and pieces like stained glass. She wanted the anger to sprout, to break that s

The night sky stretches above, clear and star-studded, a canvas of serenity that contrasts with the chaos within me. I've always found comfort in writing, and tonight is no different. The words flow from my fingertips onto the screen, a form of therapy that helps me process the storm of emotions raging inside me. As I jot down a few lines about my situation, the poem takes shape, capturing the essence of my pain and confusion. It's a bittersweet creation, a reflection of the tangled web of emotions I find myself trapped in.

When I open them, Luke is still watching me, waiting. "I need to get my bags," I whisper into the phone. "Luke will take care of everything. Just come to me." This man has always been able to turn my rational mind into chaos. He makes me forget who I am, forget what I want, forget every promise I've made to myself. I hand the phone back to Luke without another word and follow him toward the Range Rover. My legs feel like they're made of water, but I keep walking. I'm such an idiot.

“Are you satisfied yet?” The voice was so familiar that my mind went blank, and I felt like I had just been struck by lightning. I froze. Trembling, I reached out and slowly removed the mask. A pair of triumphant eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a wave of dizziness. “Well, well! Running off to have fun with my mom, huh? Have you had your fill yet, Naomi?”