Paranoid Poems - Poems about Paranoid

Surrounded by his weapons they’re all that he has left Of happiness and love his rotting soul is long bereft Obsessed with dreams of grandeur a kingdom in his reach He hides inside a fortress fearing always of a breach Will his food be poisoned?? Will it be his drink? The paranoid dictator lives each moment on the brink ...

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Gothenburg Penitentiary, the hardest of the hardest/ The concrete jungle, where everyone is heartless/ Gothenburg Penitentiary, the show now mercy/ So, you gotta learn to swim in murky waters/ Gothenburg Penitentiary, my heart just sunk/ The next fifteen years of my life I'll be sleeping on a bunk/ With a celly who's a mess and a cell that smells of funk/ The...

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Doing Time is not easy but it's something that I gotta do/ Survival of the fittest so this how I gotta move/ I'm not the strongest so I got a lot to lose/ Pound for pound round for round I got a lot to prove/ Every night I go to sleep paranoid and schizophrenic/ In my prison cell feeling like...

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Paranoid thoughts, like shadows they creep. As your eyes flicker wildly in this REM sleep. The clock ticks so loudly, each hour it chimes. As my mind runs away, in a world out of time. A voice starts to echo, as I lie in this bed. Whilst this voice whispers softly, puts a doubt in my head. As your mind starts...

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Waves of nausea crash against my splintering ribcage, stomach churning, bile burning through esophageal walls. Choking on paranoia-fueled delirium, self-inflicted wounds etched upon a fragile psyche, all while I try to hold on to some semblance of my humanity. Push and pull, breaking down walls, then building them back up, reinforced. Love never came easy in delusion-filled memories, always hovering at the cusp...

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O August, I feel subtle scents of dandelion days melting, like spring falls of delirious diamonds, while memories of sentimental sapphires flow amidst clouds of colorblind cruelty, revealing how butterflies from the temple of fragmented armors abandoned my spirit at the altar of Ares~ adorned with crushed wings. Tonight, as the sky mirrors rivulets rippling with remnants of my beloved’s violet garden, where wisterias withered away into winds of...

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("Dark Pool Nebula", 2011, original oil) Burdened By What Has Been Each moment The addition of a trillion bits of information Like compounding interest On the rest of eternity (8/15/24) ...

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'fraidy lady...

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("Untitled", aka "The Crawling Eye", 2018, original encaustic) Paranoid Eyes We live in the old part of town Where the walls have ears And the dark, eyes We have learned to watch What we say and do Until mere husks remain Of former selves But we are proud To live in such a world Where inside is out And out knows what is in Where age-old atavistic...

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Is it me? Am I paranoid? Take to me, fill my void Listen, like a humanoid Run to me, fast as an asteroid Worries, avoid Your love, steroid Stress, devoid Your love, opioid...

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Reality - what it's really like, save paranoid I'll attempt explaining, why I won't make eye contact can't look you in thee eye, I'd rather be in a void some take this as being shy, why complain this or that I trust no one, I judge no one Direct questions O' I do shun eccentric, nah! Just, going it alone avoid catastrophic...

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Grayanotoxins affect both cardiovascular and respiratory systems. Symptoms include a burning sensation in the mouth and pharynx, anoxia, salivation, emesis, muscular weakness, dimness of vision and bradycardia followed by severe hypotension, respiratory paralysis, coma, and death. Note.(supari killer goli ya Teka)...

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There is always a temptation to allow passion to become so close- So I see any efforts to help as sabotage. None of them think my passions make any sense. Maybe that’s because I am trying to grasp at too many sparks. Maybe I am scared that all my efforts can be undone by one...

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We have become paranoid Lost our capabilities to care and think Conspiracy theories abound Every time we blink. We don’t trust, we don’t believe And sadly Deeper into darkness our souls do sink....

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I’m a poet. An original or a mimic. The canvas can decide. In papers that see faces other than mine, they’re vague copies of artful work. In all else, they’re threads holding my sanity, Saving me a crisis, every once in a while....

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