Poetry Teeters On The Edge Of Insanity Novels & Stories

I opened my mouth to scream and felt the air suck it away, consuming sound, consuming everything and even as I watched the void swallow up more of my outstretched arm, I thought this is your fault, Casey Brogan, all that shit you shovelled up your nose, all those pills of god-knows-fucking-what and it's finally happened, something in that screwed-up head of yours has finally snapped and all you're going to be left with is this complete fucking madness. Because this was it. This was madness and chaos and a world turned inside out and upside down, all because I couldn't stop walking the line. All because standing on the edge and just willing myself to jump had been better than everything else

But now, I feel like my emotions are going on a rampage, and I don’t have a voice to kick them out because I don’t know whose here. My mind is a mess. The warmth residing inside me feels uncomfortable. I want to claw it away, but I’m afraid to touch it. I never thought being this close to sanity - to my brethren - would make me feel so lost. I’ve been standing on the edge for so long, has the ground become shaky or is it my knees? What does the world want from me? What do I do? Where do I step - is it a trap? I’m afraid. The world is cruel, so can one blame me? Maybe I decided to stand on the edge of my own volition because I know no one will dare come close - in fear of death.

Vireon remains focused “…The boundary is opening.” I feel it too Not a door. Not a portal. A separation The edge of definition itself Everything inside the system Rules Balance Cause and effect Stops there And beyond it? Nothing we understand The Edge Appears At first, it looks like darkness. But it isn’t Darkness is still something. This is absence of structure Absence of meaning A place untouched by systems Untouched by identity Theodore stares at it “…That looks incredibly unsafe.” Aurelion’s light flickers uncertainly “I can’t read it.”

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.

Time thinks in edges. Edges are where erosion happens. Edges are where hunger feeds. Edges are where motion becomes consumption. So I step away from the edge. Not physically. Geometrically. The pressure has been increasing again, not in new ways, but in repetitions. The same misplacements. The same flickers. The same almost distortions. The circle tightening, revisiting, testing for cracks. Flat circle. It wants me to move around it. So I stop imagining forward. I stop imagining future.

Her being upset with me is that last thing I want. It's like I'm living on egg shells constantly. It's been this way since the start of my pathetic existence so it doesn't bother me anymore. Still, I'm afraid to upset the only person who thought I was good enough to have a decent family life. A few buses went by but when I stopped them they informed me they wouldn't pass through the way to my address. They were also kind enough to tell me that it would take another half an hour for the right bus to arrive because of the rain. Great! Isn't it just awesome?

"We agreed we would stop deceiving ourselves." I put distance between us, but he's still looking at me like I'm something precious he thought he'd lost forever. "Andrew, when are you going to let me go?" His expression changes, becomes harder, more dangerous. "Why don't you twist a knife in my chest and find out?" The threat in his voice makes me shiver, but I force myself to glare back at him. "Stop being childish. I'm serious." "So am I." He walks over to the bar and pours champagne into two glasses. His movements are controlled, precise, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.

I'm a ticking time bomb. I'm unwell. A man on the edge of madness, waiting to see if the girl I'm obsessed with will betray me. By the end of today, I will know. I'll know the direction my life is going to take. I'm either going to be the happiest man alive or I'll want to jump from the very top of this building.

But something tells me the world isn’t done testing us yet. And somewhere beyond the edge of the firelight, beyond the ruins and the rain and the fragile peace won.

Not around us. Here. The difference matters. For the first time since this began, I can’t find the edge of it. Everything before had structure—entry points, conditions, reactions. Something to interrupt. Something to destabilize. This doesn’t feel built. It feels present. The trees stand motionless. Shadows remain where they should. The ground no longer shifts to guide or confuse. Everything is behaving correctly. That’s how I know something is wrong. “It stopped trying,” I say. Ilyra glances at me. “Trying what?”