Pain of the Insane

Pain of the Insane

Why does society insist on knowing me so so, so well?
For in so doing they are supposedly sensing my hell!
Are you saying that you can see deep inside my soul?
For acknowledging that, then you MUST see the hole?

Long ago, my mind and body broke so hopelessly!
Where were you then, when l was sobbing mercilessly?
You offered me no comfort, none l seemingly recall,
When you shattered my life, and left me for the long haul,

Pleaded with you l did, begged for total obliteration,
Nay, all you did was laugh in my face, and awarded ruination!
Having whipped my body and scraped my mind over the years,
Trying to combat the hidden terrors, and beat back the ordeals!

Tormented spirituality, setting my soul ablaze and aflame,
Insanity lingering, brain searing, fighting back the pain,
Witnessed the depths of the truly gruesome and the damned,
Surprised at my own immortality, as was originally planned!

Seeing with an absolute awareness the horrors of humanity,
You allowing the torturous upbringing of my insanity!
Allowing my wretchedness to recede into a broken heart
Brutalising my essence, not content with just one of the four part,

Hostility awakening within what is left of this weakened husk!
Still you tease me cruelly, from morning to the dusk!
Slowly you drain my ability to perceive any kind of happiness,
Constantly breaking, slaying me, and leaving me with lifelessness!

Oh should l desire your remarkable gift of the learning curve?
Uncontrollable urges, of suffering at your ‘just’ preserves?
Eternally punished for what may l ask, what have l done?
Not once have you ever answered with any true vocation,

Infernus blessings for a vowless and unrestrained existence,
Continued bereavement, when l expressed deathly assistance,
An intelligent mind that teeters upon the brink of destruction,
Nearing daily, the biggest loss of all, total extinction!

Hungering for the end of all that l thought was crystal clear,
Darkening clouds from sheol itself, so far yet so near,
Toying with what’s left of this beautiful yet doomed mind,
Spreading the cheer of lunacy like it’s not a crime,

Seen much l have, created from within the mental tomb,
Inspirations exploding forwards from a barbaric womb!
And what is it now? A grisly abyssal abode of the dead,
So you see me do you, know me eh, know my head???

© Rory Matier 2009

22 thoughts on “Pain of the Insane

  1. That was a great poem, my friend! I hate doctors and hate society a lot more, lol. I know hate is a strong word… But your poem represents a lot of that emotion.

    1. *After reading what I wrote* That emotion for me… Kind of hard to say what I meant Your poem represents a lot of emotions. It fires up that furnace for me though.. if that makes sense?

      1. Oh yes very much so, l am calmer these days, but rereading it and l think yeah l remember all too well how my furace was bubbling up daily. Back then l hated the word, so hate for me then was the right term 🙂

    1. Hey Beckie – yes l too am pleased of the distance l have travelled to get to where l am now. It’s been a hell of a journey.

      I think also, the biggest anger was that because l was in my forties there was simply no support whasoever and that perhaps was the hardest bit. Bipolar was tough by itself so when the Aspergers then joined in, my anger levels went through the roof. My family already having pushed me away for being weird and now l simply in their eyes became weirder was a tough pill to swallow. My parents wouldn’t even discuss with any thought the two DX’s until late 2010 and then properly in 2011 was the hardest bit of all.

      But, l am here now, today, still in one piece, the last of the crap purged from me 14 months ago, l am much happier with who l am these days, but it cost a lot getting here 🙂

      1. I can certainly undertand how it feels when your own family discards you and thinks poorly of you. The only one that ever supported me throughout my ordeal was my mother, God Bless her heart. I know I put her through a lot when I was suicidal, and pre-diagnosed with a mental illness.
        I am so proud to know you, and read more about you. You trulyhave come a long way! 😊

  2. Feeling your pain and frustration. It is so completely unfair that you were left to deal with the pain and aftermath of the diagnosis on your own.

    1. It’s because society can be kinder [not always trust me, but sometimes] to the younger receiving a diagnosis, but not the elder demographs. medical professionals in this country make me laugh, they are the worst offenders “Oh well you have got this far, why worry about it?” is like showing red to a bull.

  3. I could write a book or two about dealing with medical people, society and evil insurance companies. Fibromyalgia can’t be diagnosed with a blood test or X-Ray or MRI and since I look okay, I must BE okay and just a faker.
    Anger, despair, self-doubt… It’s a long road with pot holes and land mines getting to ‘I’m not faking, I’m okay with who I am and I’m going to live my life and have a good time doing it’
    Brilliant poem!

    1. Hey G’ma, l am sure you could, l think many people probably could write a book a piece if not a series.

      The medical so called professionals and society have a lot to answer for.

    1. It’s a bit like we were discussing the other day Poddy. Once you get to grips with your inner core, you set about to improve it as best as you can. It can take a long time, and longer if you don’t know what you are dealing with. But once you do, you start the changing process 🙂

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