Schizophrenia

I cut because they tell me to do so
And for every little slice I make,
I get twelve hours of silence
And not a second more.
I hurt because they tell me I should.
I cry when you say it's all right.
But nothing is all right.

I say that they are there.
But you tell me they are not.

Crimson runs down the gutters of the street,
Corpses shuffle around and follow me
Drip, drip, dripping and hanging flesh
With maggots crawling
In through empty frozen eye sockets and
Rotting, blackened teeth with
Swollen tongues and mucus oozing
From sores red with gaping crucifix holes
Broken hands reaching through the scorching shadows
Pulling and dragging and ripping and tearing and shoving me down again
Whispering screams in the bright night time daylight
Insects buzz, buzz, buzzing around my head

They whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
I listen because they tell me to do so.
Every thing they say makes perfect sense
Every thing you say doesn't.
I don’t want any more!

But they still tell me that they are there.
I try to see you, but you are blurred and foggy.
They are not.
They are solid as ice through crystal
Bending and refracting the light
Like the lies that are truth and the truths that are really lies
And yet...
Everyone else tells me that they are not there.

I do not lie when I say this:
I know that they are!
Sitting here all alone,
I touch them and I get back tainted love.

I feel disgusted and I am awash in my own sapphire diamond tears
That rip apart what little remains of my violet chalcedony soul
I run from them.
And I gave them all I could give.
But they took it all and then some more.

I close my eyes and lay my aching head
Upon that softly coarse pillow as I
Pull the blanket up real tight
But they poke and prod
Like some mad scientist and
They will not leave me alone.
Not 'til I have given them
Their payment for the day
For every crimson ache I make
I get another twelve hours of peace and
Not a single second more
The more I make, the longer they leave me alone and then
When the lines fade
They come back and I pay them again.

You tell me it is not right
What I am doing
That it is a sin to damage all that your dead little god gave me
I ask, "What god could ever let his child suffer like this and pay him in crimson for peace?"
No answer have you for one such as I
You still tell me they are not there
And never, ever were
I say you are lying to me
I know that Big Sister is looking for me
I see it all the time
People go missing for days on end
No trace to be found
Then I see them walking about
They are the failed ones
You tell me aren't there....

I say that they are there.
And you say that there is no one there.
I hear their whispers in the shadows,
Telling me what I should do.
You hand me an orange plastic friend
And tell me it will help save me from myself but
Nothing ever, ever will.
I hear them still with every little blue and red and green and white pill I swallow.
I take my life because they said I should
So I can avoid becoming like them.
You still say that no one is there…