A Psychosis Love
A psychosis of the heart, feeling what is not there. Seeing what is more but illusions of ghostly figures. A past that has been torn from the chapters like poison in the flesh. Blending the abstract to feel of reality.
Though beautiful in thought, art is but the savvy of the heart; and the mind enriches such abstractions. Mixing with the intent to stay in the familiar, though pain may follow.
A gorgeous crescendo only to bleed out unto the soul and flood it with no hope of breath. Not even an ark can save one from such a destructible pair. Leading one to be sheep, in their own acceptance of their naive choice.
Hurdles of misery are so simple, as one knows the outcome for each. So they race to each only to fall; never taking up practice to leap. For fear of what lies to the other side is more frightful than the repetition of a mangled heart.
So they become but a heart of the catatonic; rigid in suffering.
They stare idle into what they know they should turn from.
"Oh but love, it is still their, can you not see?"
They say with a mouth of blood and their heart carried by the deceitful and loathsome. They cry out with tears as they watch their maimed heart be devoured in the pleasures of the broken. A page they should have left only for reflection.
But they will plead that it is but unfinished; there lies more to write.
"This time it will be different" They will howl in the den of their horded ruins.
Rubbing their soul in the tears into the paraphrased version of their unforgettable love. Clinging with every effort that others shall raise them up in their words. Speaking with reason to concur, but they fail miserablely in the acceptance of broken.
Following themselves to doom, with bloodied lips and bruised hearts.
How does one leave a love of psychosis?
Thank you for reading.
How do you recover from love?
More heart broken thoughts to be read in, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words.
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