didn’t intend to develop schizophrenia
which masticated within her brain regardless
of her want
inking pathways and dissecting certainty
a railway of colors lost in submersion
until Capgras Delusion bloomed
the moth of dissociation a star
sewn grossly on her shoulder
branding in disorder
didn’t mean to
self mutilate
causing a bald spot on her scalp to form
like paper becoming chinese lotus
a whirl of follicles perfectly circular
she wholeheartedly believed men made exact copies of people
“screens” that mimicked reality but were not
there were two screens of herself
one evil, one good
the good Diana
presented her doctor with a plea for help
I don’t want to be consumed by the whirl she said
biting her nails with reddened lips
the evil Diana considered if
she could reach the pencil and sink it in
to his rotten false arm
you’re obviously a fake she wanted to scream
I can see you! I can see your falseness!
like tar on the beach you wash up dead and stinking!
the good Diana kept quiet
this takes time to prove, she thought
sheltered behind her bamboo mask
tight and affixed with unknown glue
where once in a while she’d peer out
tongue lolling against wood
limbic system walking with disabled emotion
feeling like she was looking out of someone else
phosphorous haunting versions or a lighthouse
void of lamp
never finding her way back from cliffs edge
into phantom self
(Thank you to Vilayanur S. Ramachandran for his inspiring paper of the same name)