Poem- “The Event”

“The Event”

Certain schizophrenic effects have no gender in any topic.

Male and female voices are heard.

Nothing plain, nothing special.

Just this ringing in my ears can be an invading lady or nothing at all.

Viruses involve forced error.

One thing to notice about a virus is its lack of identity.

It doesn’t want to have a name, a gender, or a membership to a species.

Genes may become corrupted from my schizophrenia.

Differences are always on the case- there’s never a guaranteed pause.

While having the schizophrenia event it felt like I was changing.

All of it felt like I was changing into various animals.

My disordered imagination revolved on superstitions and curses.

There was a guardian in my head: white robe, special hat, and golden tool.

He was in my bedroom performing a ritual.

I even heard what was like the booming sound of an angel on the street.

Magic got within reach of my fingertips.

The head on my shoulders was tilting according to sudden brain changes.

A lot of the past knowledge transformed into lurking illusions.

Dances were made around the bedroom area and nature areas outside.

Everything in my mind just came and went.

Ireland and Spain were thought to be the same in color- green and red.

I couldn’t go, I couldn’t stop.

Safety for my fantasies revealed dangerous shades of grey.

At the soda drink, I was a fly.

At the mirror, I was a lion.

Near the pool, I was turned into a pony.

Don’t freak out when I’m telling you the story of my event.

Mind and body went in hand- by then, I marched outside as a knight early on.

Looking at the stars reminded me of gazing robots.

Two boots and a plunger were taken from a public restroom for my “travels”.

So often the voices were completely silent; I even closed my eyes to them.

I was very unhealthy and overeducated at the time.

Anger almost entirely disappeared and it’s still missing.

Under the light came this realization that I was as big as the small world.

Nobody seemed to look away anymore.

Internet today has become a daily genre of entertainment.

Back then, I didn’t get the hint until I received a note saying I was crazy.

No, it didn’t “literally” say I was crazy.

It was a combination of depression, schizophrenia, and psychosis.

That explained the damsels I “heard” outside in the apartment complex.

To this day I still have the ringing in my ears as it touches other voices.

Call it a kind of mindful broadcasting if you will.

Something like this could explain the imaginary crimes we had of the past.

Eventually I had a dream in Ventura where I heard the Devil in my dark sleep.

He said he was going to feed me and let me die.

Odd.

I hadn’t yet even really read the Bible and yet these ideas popped up.

It was scary, but I soon got totally over it.

That illusion might be described as a furry soldier speaking a foreign language.

So it’s pretty evident that these effects lacked gender, names, and groups.

What I now believe it was is a cardinal mystery of representation.

Ideas switched back and forth between so many differences that they were null.

How do ideas come to fruition?

Could this quick invention of revelations turn the tide over and over again?

Maybe it’s just the mind’s entry into the world where it fits on no reasons. 

https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/The-Event-801662033