poltergeist on the Micz

Who Am I Who am I? I wonder, an All out victory, or an embarrassing blunder, Bi polar maybe, The right hand throws and fights, The left hand mostly writes, Bi-lateral with ADHD, You judge that on a stereotype, You don’t think you do? Tell me something other than, I’m a hyperactive stupid type? As you can see I’m happy confronting, turn hostile when alphas start fronting, I’ll take physical pain over mental, But the ADHD makes me respond quick, with wit, I use it to prevent the hit for hit, almost always works except for a few pricks, fist to the face in those rare cases, only hit em when they’re standing, hitting when they’re out on the floor is for disgraces, pull em up and knock em down once more so they know where their place is. , I’ve got a sense of humour, it’s better than other humans humour in that it makes me laugh and theirs only makes them laugh, and yes I’m daft, how else do you have a laugh? trippin on bath salts in the Bath and I voted BREXIT, (remainers are now heading for the exit), or stay with prejudice, I’m not racist, except to my own race who never get pissed, you’re a bigot, what an idiot, but truth be told, corrupt no doubt. This is all tongue in cheek, how else would you speak? and I’ll leave you with this, I know I’m silly, bitch Im bonkers yo for really i got a Willie that make a bitch go wonkers im now in Third Person for certainly I'm going berserking He speaks metaphorically to avoid dealing direct , shows the unknown hand he’s against too much respect, writes about his bravery though it’s no where to detect or talks in the third person like this I'd expect. Going on about himself like it’s happening to someone else, distanced from reality his distracted mind plays stealth, deflecting the desperation straying from his fails, because being himself is hell with his fractured mental health. You’d think he would try to save it but instead he stays away, doesn’t acknowledge the slaying, writing on as if okay, creates a situation where he has the final say, when really just a coward putting himself on display. He must have found comfort writing this because it's structured, a new angle on the old tale nothing more than a distraction, because as soon as it finishes he's back to a spineless buster, hiding from conflict comforting another poor reaction. How long will he go on paving this path of pathetic, in a dangerous direction purposely neglected, there’s the renegade he speaks of, self elected, walking towards death being naturally selected. But deep in this metaphor he doesn’t change a thing, in his head it’s someone else or a tale of some thing. To know what happens next go back where this poem begins, now knowing what life is when your name is Nick Trim. Drug Undertow Bombarding the bong like oxygen is wrong drinking alcohol like you’re a bottomless hole, The speed the base the MDMA the pace of life wastes you away cocaine and ecstasy next day looking wrecked to me Ketamine replaces vitamins face changes, unrecognisably Why buy more supplies When supplies die off and you die slow Unhappy unless under the influence, life caught up in the drug undertow Anxiety I know I’ll get darked off I know it will happen Every situation stunts to a crap end The anxiety builds and it kills composure Brake leads dangle on hills, gravity shows ya, Speed rises as you head for disaster Helpless to it, continuously faster The heartbeat pulse and cardiovascular sweat beads bind as thoughts flabbergaster. This is anxiety, and what it’s like It’ll strike anytime of day or night it overwhelms the mental fight To a world of worry and constant fright Insanity and death The gifts of our flesh Wickedness personified Endless hatred deified Sin is our existence Murder, lust and greed Desire to see you bleed Mutilation justified We live to watch another die Enemies of peace Satan laughing, satisfied Abomination realized Curse of humankind Plague upon this barren land Curse of humankind Raping, robbing, taking life Progenitors of pain and strife Curse of humankind