Look At Him

Look at him.
(people have always looked at me)
He has every gift God can give
and he's wasted it all.
And now he expects other people
get him out of the mess
he's made of his life?
Let him dig down deep and
do it himself,
it'll be good for him,
make a man out of him.
Look at him. Walking down the street,
seems distracted, but smiles and stops to say something to a family passing by.
See, there, in the parietal lobe,
a vision of that man He is talking to,
why its the man's penis grown long enough for him to stuff it in His mouth.
And scenes of old women and children being raped.
Doesn't seem to phase him.
Hmmm, he looks OK, placid even, sad, but OK.

Hmmm. look there in the central sulcus,
pain in his rectum and chest, all he is doing is reading.
Whats the book, something about PTSD.
Oh my, doesn't he look good today,
better looking as he ages, I think.
Look there, in the amigdala,
fear, fear of being noticed,
singled out, different, chosen, used
wow, that triggers more fear,
memories from all over, some clear and distinct, some unclear.

"MMMM you have such a great bod" she said.
Sex, she wants sex.
Fear, panic, desire, anxiety, lots of stimulation.
She's looking at me, her hands are everywhere
but she doesn't really see me,
know me, understand me,
Used. Ok, lots of stuff here.
What do you mean, he's going with the flow like a pro.
OK, but there's lots of stuff...
OK, OK, he was doin great, but ED, ED...

Lots of memories, clarity variation,
Holy sh__! He's scooting out the back door
leaving that hot blonde hot and heavy.
Just because I look the way I do,
everyone thinks I'm some sort of stud,
that all I want out of life is sex,
I go with the flow as usual, but...

Look at him,
he's got it all,
made the team as walk on,
he'll be number two behind the senior all conference whip LB,
Get plenty of playing time, get a scholarship
Start next year, or this year if the number one goes down.
And the women...
Uh Oh, look amino acid uptake is critically low
he's clinical,
Ah, c'mon, look at him, he's fine.
No, sleep patterns disturbed,
anxiety depression cycle...
All my life, long as I can remember,
I never let anybody know what was really going on inside,
I got really good at it,
No one can by looking,
and I find I simply can't talk about it coherently,
would mean too much attention.

Momentary consciousness {see blog page},
anxiety, depression.
Evil, everything is evil.
Spirits, demons everywhere.
I sense them, I battle them,
with my spirit, my right parietal lobe.
the rest of my brain goes on as usual...
Look at him, he's fine,
workin' like a champ, been here six weeks
and he's running his own crew.
The wind draws one into a black hole,
unless you have the will to resist the madness.

Then came the voices,
and the interior world
grew to be more real than the exterior.
Constant delusion on a grand scale,
my perceptions, the evidence of my senses is the illusion,
the voice and the world it creates are the reality.
But why don't you ever tell anyone?
The words don't form in my mouth,
I reherse them often in my mind
but they won't come out.
Maybe something about PTSD and apraxia.

Look at him,
what a waste.
And the dreams.
I am back with my first wife, the abuser.
Some bazaar, fantastic scenario,
it becomes wilder, more menacing, more surreal, more complex, more evil...
I am trapped with unbearable evil...until it reaches the point where I simply cannot take it any longer...
and the scenario changes, still just as bazaar and evil,
but somehow the the change makes it bearable and the cycle repeats,
over and over, each scenario somehow worst than the last.
I awake in the very early morning, I feel psychotic,
anxiety, fear, reality is unclear, not to be trusted, unstable.
I stay awake until dawn, then try to sleep.