High up on the crumbling dry rotted up toxic mold infected ramparts of my old cliched self designed"For Personal Entertainment only"faux stone facade fortress of overcompensation and patchwork situational personality, I suddenly find myself in survival mode, standing the traditional impending death watch. I am posted way up and way,way to precariously perched in a quick pounce emergency exit position.
I can no longer see,miscompehend and luxuriate in the beautiful insanity of my delusionary landscape from the bliss of a mighty,mighty fine buzz in a perpetual series of mighty fine buzzes.
I am all alone all of a sudden in this moment,alone and free of all the other versions of me who haunt me from the past and the nooks and crannies of my eternity,ghosts of my past,some who had never got to be,some who were but shouldn't have been and many others i just sidestepped away from in both good and bad situations,situations where the opposite of what was by the form of the moment dictated as right was standing in the way of the chemically required wrong. The hunting blinds in the designated stalking shadows right behind my eyes are empty of all those other me's.
and i am
A little terrified in the rarified air up on this ledge once designated as the Official"Coign of Vantage",a stategic plot spotting spot in the cneter of my multi-layered interdimimensional delusionary kingdom,layers all at odds against each other.
in the abscence of a once so lofty presumptiousness i can no longer marvel at this extravagant monolith constructed piece by piece with the technical form dictated principles of an internally anarchistic existence.An existence that was always in a state of flux influenced by the constantly changing spectrum of my perspective due to the complexity of my constant multi-flavored chemical ingestion.
right here today(tonight),in this seconds right here,right now snapshot i find myself swaying and praying in the face of an inner storm of me.A storm brewing from the contrast of the hot adrenaline
flashes of wounded pride and the indignation of my addictions failure to show me how to trancend and the cold ominous back of the neck tingling visceral premonition of my sanities death in the belly of my soul,A storm coalescing and preparing to surge and emerge out of me from the self induced coma of lucidity I long used to save the half dead life of my preferred delusions from the shock of any real time cognitive focus on the futility of my actual physically addicted life and the addled emotionality of the chemical version of me.A version now on life support and in terminal straits.
The battle flags of my once so highly vaunted psuedological grand delusions falsely justified misperception of life are now whipping and ripping in the gale force fringe winds of that inner storm, flags now just torn and tattered remnants and sad reminders of my once so perfectly arrayed and brightly colored army of cliches.
Standing on the last buckling legs of my hypocrisy,I am now beginning to see the futility I missed then and then again of repetitively seeking dose after dose of a self administered anasthesia to obliviate any of that cognitive realization of the imperfection of myself;of always trying to escape myself by burrowing deep into my head past layer after layer of reason and sanity until exhaustion slowed me to a stop and gravity pulled me to a fully prone sprawl crawl and left me in the stupor of a fast fading rush and everpresent delusions in the back corners of my deepest inner dungeons floor.
I lived to lose sight in my flite until there was nothing but cold bare black walls.
The optomistic wishes of my histories of my histories early chapters titled"Striving to find a Perception of Perfection" had long been turned by serial frustration into desperate wishes,wishes that inspired my chemically assisted dreams,dreams that had called out to me from the low dips on the rushes sine waves to just surrender and live life down there behind closed eyes chasing illusions,illusions that just perpetuated morphing through deprivation into the delusions i used to disguise the reality of my demise from the original god designed pre-set version of me i was equipped with for this journey to a potentially enlightened re-ascencion to heaven.
Any screams for help to that me from me were so effectively muted by my chemical and attitudal saturation and their susequent brands of insanity that they were relegated to a life so far down on the aural spectrum,on frquencies so obscure and distant that even the hounds of hell couldn't hear them.
It's getting dangerous up here and i am too scared of the thought of the physical idea of falling to metaphysically jump.
I can hear myself now though and in the clarity of this second of awareness i can hear myself whispering "jump",Jump off the ledge of these crumbling ramparts and into the arms of yourself,
"Jump"Jump out of this cracked shell of the delusionally created you and into the you in the world that is,
"Jump",Jump high enough to clear the outstretched arms of all the delusionary versions of you,
"Jump"., Jumpfar enough away from the now red tagged monstrosity of your addictions cancerous creation that you will not be tempted to seek shelter in the nooks and crannies haphazardly constructed by the random falling pilings of the wreckage from those bits and pieces the old voice of your false justification will try to declare safe for an old comfortable kind of habituation,
"Jump","Jump","Jump" until the false comfort of that old kind of malignant familiar can no longer tempt with an abandoned house candle lit cooked meal of sights,sounds and other reality camaflouging sensory kibbles and bits,
"Jump"Jump into the blank canvass of nothing craftily postulated at all where the possibilities of something new are endless and leave the nothing much of that something that really never was to pile up and bio-degrade back into the compost heap of irrational hypothetical why not's and chemically inspired just could be's i once designed this fragile house of wild card fortress from by stuffing random handfuls of fractured just maybe's into a big old bargain bag of convenient excuses and pinata popping it open,popping it wide open to let the pieces lay where they fell and form whatever it was they willed.,
"Jump""Jump""JUMP",cause if that life of half dead living didn't kill me then this fall probably wont either.
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