Psychotic. Thrown from mouth to mouth.

Maybe wishing for taste of what it’s like to escape reality

Casting away a pasture of peace and norm

For something truly catastrophic.

But once this reality blows the Sun out.

Horizons becomes so inky with the glacial breath of night.

Mirroring perfect circumstances but in a mismatch fashion.

Funny,- psychosis leaves you crawling on your knees for a taste

 of what it’s like to bear the burden of a daily routine.

Having no paranoia nor impending doom as a constant side with

 scrambled eggs.

Controlling what your future is destined to be instead of a statistic.

To be placed among the life style of the forgotten,

The scattered nooks and crannies among the city scape

A plot of land filled with people who live underneath the tree roots

 with the murmurs of  should have, could of, would have.

Tip toeing from the thoughts of those who were promised something so much

more. 

Hand cuffed to a shiny golden opportunity,

Coaxing with the false notion that escaping is a possibility.

-There's only so much that can be done when wrist get broken trying to flee

this crued torture device.

That door of scourge-

Maybe one day this contradiction will crumble,

but now it's only decorated with the composition of wishful thoughts.