you spend life floating,
drifting aimlessly among the
stratosphere
alone.
the masses below you
blissful,
souls tethered to something
you’re not
so you watch,
and assimilate
it’s a vice.
weaving through society,
fabricating emotions
sewing phantom threads
puncturing your fabric
stitching over color
it’s lonelier down here.
surrounded by people
you can’t be yourself around.
everyone is oblivious,
my synthetic flesh
stretched
too tight around bone.
you’re not one of of them.
(more importantly)
they’re not one of you.
when you’re insane,
everyone else is.
so you reflect inwards,
counsel yourself
after all
who would understand,
better than you?
life is given.
an immaculate conception,
birthing two personas.
distinct and deliberate,
rapidly swelling entities.
your body now houses a trinity.
three different recollections exist
within the same gyrus.
and each believe their memories to be,
a holy doctrine.
three sides
and the truth.
what’s real and what’s fake
who’s to tell?
you?
yourself disagrees.
the solace your mind,
your only source of candor,
lies in waste at your feet
pillaged and burned
by their
(your)
righteous hand.
it’s the straw,
your systemic annihilation.
you’d think it remarkable.
(if you were capable of ironic thought)
a masterly crafted strategy
stunning in it’s formulation.
you trace the cool handle,
steel retribution.
the smooth slide of lead
into a divisive cylinder.
who would know you best,
inside and out?
a series of clicks mark the
resounding entombment
into the chamber.
each white knuckled shame and
petal soft hope and dream?
it ends the way it began
with a bang.
the bullet burrows through your skin,
past your skull,
into your corrosive mind
out the other side and,
quiet.
at last.