Novel & Cerita Insanity Poetry

When it talks to you like you don't belong Or tells you you're in the wrong field When something's in your mitochondrial 'Cause it latched on to you, like— Knock knock, let the devil in Manevolent as I've ever been, head is spinnin' This medicine's screamin', "L-L-L-Let us in!" L-L-L-Like a salad bowl, Edgar Allan Poe Bedridden, shoulda been dead a long time ago Liquid Tylenol, gelatins, think my skeleton's meltin' Wicked, I get all high when I think I've smelled the scent Of elephant manure—hell, I meant Kahlúa Screw it, to hell with it, I went through hell with accelerants And blew up my-my-myself again Volkswagen, tailspin, bucket matches my pale skin

“They all think I should apologize. They wait for me to beg. To weep. To fall on my knees and cry for forgiveness. But I will not. I can’t. I do not even know how. I was never made for begging. I was made for winning. And I will win again. Even if I have to destroy every last person who doubted me.” “Oh, listen to me. Talking to the walls, pacing these empty floors. No maids, no calls, no friends, no Marcus, no family. Just me and these shadows. Maybe I am mad. Maybe I have always been. But it does not matter. Because madness is not weakness. Madness is freedom. No rules. No limits. No shame. Just me. Just my rage. Just my hunger. And hunger, my dear invisible audience, hunger will always ea

It's trash_inlove Till the next Adios.

How true is that statement for this damned world we live in, where nameless horrors always lurk in the dark, ready to catch us, trap us, and drag us to eternal ruin. I believe that insanity is a release from the restrictive limitations imposed on us by the expectations of our culture, our race and, above all, ourselves. The madman does not care what others think of him, because what leads a person to dementia is often the revelation that the world around him is not as safe or stable as he would like to believe, that it is a populated place by monsters that lurk just beyond the thin veil of reality, that can tear apart a man's soul as well as his body and destroy his mind.

note that this is illegal. With a deep breath, Athena clicked on the files Jay had sent her, and a series of mugshots filled her screen. Five faces stared back at her, each with a haunting story to tell. The first inmate, Karam Abigal, sent a shiver down Athena's spine. The sheer brutality of his crimes, the annihilation of an entire family, shook her to her core. It was chilling to read that he suffered from depression and schizophrenia, mental illnesses that seemed to contribute to the unimaginable acts he had committed. His impending death in five months added another layer of gravity to the situation.

And I don’t want to feel my voice choking between my throat and my mouth Grasping for air, with a blurry vision, dead stars dancing behind my eyelids. Me, wishing to enter into the blankness of the darkness. Me, dying without dying. Where my sadness ends, is where my heart is drawn from. And where my trouble ceases is where my sanity lies. I am a loyal palace maid. Loyal to the enemy of peace. Loyal to insanity. Regretfully dismantled to the pupils of my fears.

“Insanity is the state of being seriously mentally ill. I’m in love. Granted, in some ways, love is madness.” He pressed his body against mine and her heart hummed. “Love is the feeling of a deep romantic attachment. Sexual. Intense. Suffocating. So deep. You can’t sleep without them. Your heart is flames. Roaring ones.” He inhaled. “Your nights are dreams dancing in obsessions.” “I see you’ve taken up poetry?” she shoved him away and stepped to the side. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. “If I’m insane, then it’s insanely in love.”

Henry*** The world shatters around me, a cacophony of destruction that echoes through my bones. Everything I’ve ever known is crumbling, slipping through my fingers like sand, and the storm inside me rages with an intensity I can’t control. I am its eye, the center of this chaos, and yet I am powerless to stop it. The darkness surrounds me, pulls at my insides, and all I can do is endure its cold, suffocating grip. The man I was… I can barely remember him. Only fragments remain, scattered like broken glass, and the creature I’ve become is all that’s left.

It was gloriously, profoundly ridiculous. In my old life, every minute was accounted for. Reading poetry was considered inefficient, a weakness. Now, it’s a revolutionary act. My father’s schedule would have me in a meeting right now, desperately trying to save face. Instead, I’m listening to beautiful words that have nothing to do with contracts or quarterly reports. This is the true reward of ruin. The stillness. The slowness. The right to be inefficient. I closed my eyes, letting the deep timbre of Igor’s voice wash over me. He read about light, about distance, about the small, intense world two people create together against the indifference of the universe.

#MarriedButAlone #IMarriedACheater #PagesI’llDeleteLater “What is this? A pity poem?” I spat with a scowl, “Who the hell wrote this?!”