The Psychosis Prophecy of the Insane

I just want to live in a 25m² apartment,
eat bacon every day,
make my parasite eaten brain
scribble the walls
full of forbidden
prophecies
of loud obnoxious bug
nesting in our ear
drums;
of songs
that split and bring together
and of Spirits that die in the field
No limits
to what a mind could hallucinate
but that it
could turn out
so fuckin’ weird
Like our spirits are on different
plain
engulfed in
an endless body of homogene liquid
with no need to breath
in them
they float under surface
scream
with your mouth full
of salty water
nobody can hear
what you
try to communicate:
pity is all you get
and subtile movement
is all that you feel.
Our life just like our beginning.
Blind
trapped
kicking
don’t minding
the soft surface and vulnerable
of the full belly.
I swear.
I was there
when they told me.
We are just
the first manifestation
of selfconfident madness
a message
invading
this material sphere.
25 m²
apartment
and the Chaos gods
they speak to me
in fat smears.