The Thoughts of a Sane Madman

Introduction

It's 2 a.m and I am wide awake, listening and communing with my demons. My heads are filled with throes, my heads? Yeah, my heads, because at the moment I commune with my demons, I have two different bodies, one is mine, and the other is for someone, or some people I don't know. 

A dog doesn't return to its waste, is what they say, but every time I feel like the boy who has lost his way home, I give my bodies medals (self harm) and sink back into absolute nothingness. And again, like I have always failed my promises, I have returned to my waste, & my demons & and the remains of the sanity left in me is evaporating under the heat of finding a whole in the fragment of the broken shards of me. 

1.

How do you tell of a boy whose body is a confluence of pains?At other point, how do you tell of a feeling the evokes in a boy to disconnect himself from everyone, (himself inclusive) because he thinks he doesn't get enough love from them? That's how he feels when the world becomes overwhelming, when he screams and the screams fill the void in his head, & his brain becomes a vacuum, & silence pervades, & he pauses for a while & and while he feels everything has stopped, the Screams. Muffled voices in his heads. Silences. Bleeps at regular interval, the whole thing starts all over again. Series of a sane mad man.

At some time, the body of this boy harbours a soul that's lived forever. Mostly, the body and the soul do not concur. One time, one of them wants to be lively, while the other wants to be locked in, and be left to wander in the wilderness of my being. I could remember the only time both agreed to issue was when one yearn for heaven, (I have inadvertently said heaven because hope is not lost for the living), and the other also wanted to be lowered in the ground, wanted to feel the earth quaked the whole. Though, different wants but they get something the same in the end; death! 

2.

Then I meet a girl, I don't know how she looks (that doesn't matter), and slowly, gradually, her body turns to the brothel when I find something close to solace. But she didn't give that solace for long, because she died. My heart wasn't broken, (or does a broken heart get broken again?) at least she's a girl, and she can easily be replaced, with someone else, in someplace else, in some other existence and then begin to the long walk to freedom again. Right from the start. & the unfortunate part is, it doesn't take long before the demons beckon on another, and then, steadily her body transcends to brothel & they get tired, & she lives for good, but not after she breaks a curse and the process begins again. But this time, not from the start, and not from where it stops.

Then the last straw that broke the camel's back, she was unique, different, & unlike others, she was meek and gentle, attentive, and would stare a gaze that made me feel penance for my sins. & that was when everything changed. The fight with my demons, and the will to live or to leave. 

3.

Well, intimacy is not a thing of ours, but that was the first thing she showed, and we detested that, for a fragment of every intimacy she showed me decimated our whole. I was caught up, amid the quiet street of myself, wandering and wondering, if truly this was okay. If I could truly survive without my demons. And when I chose her over my demons, I was labelled a pariah, and made to walk the street, with Shame and disgust spewed at me by my demons. 

At some point, I felt everyone (herself and myself inclusive) stretches the helping hand, but I felt they are not helping because I am too busy fighting my demons. It was tough, more like a World War that would span a century of time. But does victory come from a war that will stretch till eternity? No. Then gradually, I retreated, my whole couldn't subdue the rage of my demons, & I lost my heart in the nighttime when everywhere was dark, and the serenade of the night had faded into long screeches of the owls & her hands slowly slipped from my grasp, creating two different worlds; one which has me in her whole, and the other, my demons in my whole. 

And that, like a stint, I returned to my waste, and picked up right from where I left it.

The shaded lives. The Hades. The compromises. The betrayals. The disloyalty. And all. Not a fragment was left unpicked. 

4.

At some point, mostly at my recluse time, I despise myself to the point that I find my existence not worthy and unnatural. If thereafter, you see this soul wandering, drop your sin with it, find your redemption through it. He is lost, but he can find you your own way.

It's 4:03 a.m, I am still finding the way home, the way to find succour in sleep. 

NOTE: it's a random thought that lingers in my head, and this, by the writer's state of mind, the writer shouldn't be held accountable for your interpretation of this piece as irrational thoughts expressed in words.

© broken mirror