Delusional Fear To Adhere To

 Delusional fear I adhere to, and in a thumping rage, my flat like a cage, I curse and swear, aware that I am talking to myself, but in stealth, on my own, with urgencies of communicating, disregarding my health, as insanity takes a hold, I am so bold to have the alter told, arguing and denying the trying of patronising, and as we whisper, talk, argue and shout – we bout in words and aggressive behaviour of paranoia, as in who's watching, listening, talking on the TV and radio, my voice wants to know, and in cryptic mode, it does decipher a mood to choose, but struggle in principle, as in whose morals rule the mood of the passing and lasting of the day and night, sometimes in fright, from the flight of one's blows, to one's face, a pace of gravity mentality, as I become harassed by many characters, with different behaviours, sometimes fateful, other times grateful, as a sight to see, in these words of testimony.

© Andrew Stevenson 22/03/2017

 

An edited piece. Please note I am well at this present time.

 

Thank you. Love love, Andrew.