The reckless OCD
Why are thoughts so painful, wearing out my skin in layers
There is only so much that a human can take, How much you ask? Till the blood splurges out as your bone pierces out of the skin.
You came like every other day, hide and play that game, one after other, forever another, to think of the thoughts of the other realm, possibilities that cease to exist, in mist, fog, and the rupturing beast that mauls when calm persists, in east, west forever and ever to call the deceased even after the ruins are long gone, who says the phantom slays, unfurling pages of deceiving deception, the eyes wait to gorge out, see in sync and tunes. What do the armors stop? Is it nonsensically sensible songs and utterances, musings, abuses, yelling at the top of the lungs, eardrums melting like the tundra sun, glazing via the pores of ice, the ice exists in the head, non-mobile, vile, and salted, trying to show photos of men-women, genders, dilapidated blunders in black and blue. The heart coaxed and raged, powering the mind aloud, it says,
“Let the demons grace your head, let reason soak its seeds in this wild imagination’s breeding grounds.”
The mighty dark,
Of all ceasing to exist.
They say.
They all say.
What do they tell?
As you break yourself into frail
Frames of bodies trapped in spaces,
The vile races are meant to be questioned?
The rage..
Comes..
Questions..
And only questions..
More questions..
MoRe QuesTions appeaR..
MORE QUESTIONS APPEAR..
MORE AND MORE QUESTIONS RUN LIKE WILD HORSES…
It is the end of time, long-lost, long-seen, visually appealing,
Dark horses ride the knights of the alternative world,
One created by deception in pages unfurling,
In shadows disappearing.
Of boiling bodies splitting their haphazard throats for rent,
For reasons never end,
Shadows forced moving back to the sun.
Amidst the questioning, is there any identity left?
Let the paper split itself into elements.
One moving object stills, two pages plucked out of a leaflet book.
The prey that went against the mighty Lion, holding the head by the giant mouth, of fatty tissues laying in the muscular bed, moving in unison, creating a suspicion of many kinds, behinds, lay the beehive where all the forces get together, and every question left unanswered.
The last drop of sweat fell, the kingdoms already swell to mark the tryst with destiny, sleepless nights are a diffusing night of honor, the shadow scares you, the thoughts paces, of no reason with another reason, what does reason mean? what does ‘what’ mean? what does any of it mean? The veil is pulled out and a head with 9 heads, with another 9 heads, atop another 9 heads, in sides another 9 heads captures the heads and the mighty heads, Of all things headed by the head. You never regret being on your head, for the head burst itself symbolically from the rush of thoughts with questions within a question of the related question of the adjacent question until all of it just crumble in the pool of blood..
Writing has always been my muse and Medium is redefining my own style for me. I hope if you liked my story, you won’t mind buying a book to drop in my kitty, this keeps me going. Here is the link. And thanks regardless for your amazing and quintessential reads. It matters, and means a lot!
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