asylum

Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born,

But I was repelled.

 

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.

 

They left each other fast,

'cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.

 

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.

 

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.

 

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.

 

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'cause I ran away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.

 

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

 

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas appeared.

 

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.

 

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...

 

What happened was unforeseen,

'cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.

 

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.

 

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...

I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.

 

Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

This was too much to deal...

 

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I bought a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my auto-biography in poetry-form.

Delirium

Folder: 
Dreams

I was bound to the sanitarium, and much later afterwards Nyarlathotep told me that he locked me up there; I used to have the habit of wandering around on the diabolical planes of the Dreamlands and encountering people who bring terror, so afraid of those beings I am. There was a corner in the shopping mall in A'tham where dwelled an extraordinary evil person, and always I tried to avoid this place, but sometimes there was no way around it. Therefore, Nyarlathotep locked me up in the sanitarium in the Dreamlands.

 

I am bound, bound to this bed with this hard undercover, like sleeping on a bunch of sacks. There they come, the keepers of the sanitarium with their huge needles in no private part of the asylum but shared with all the other patients. They injected delirium in patients with those needles instead of taking it away, and mad I went, again...

 

Finally I was brought to my private room. I always have a private room in the asylum for I am fond of my privacy. There once, the Old Ones came to the window, but the Old Ones were there no more, only sometimes they came, always invisible...

 

The windows were wide open, this used to be the case many times and I always feared of falling outside the window. However, this time, I got an idea. I could fly out the window with the undercover of the bed, it didn't seemed to high. And I did it! I landed safely on the ground but to my disappointment there was a keeper here also and a locked gate, I couldn't escape...

 

The keeper was female with short blonde hair and looked straight at me. "Aren't you supposed to be inside?" she asked me firmly. I didn't respond. In a moment the other keepers appeared and brought me back to my room. Suddenly I remembered the one time when the van came, that time when I did escape... When Nyarlathotep came out of the white van and claimed me back inside the asylum. I cannot escape the asylum. Nor can I ever escape or hide from Nyarlathotep...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had about the sanitarium.

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Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born;

But I was repelled.


 

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.


They left each other fast,

'cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.


 

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.


 

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.


 

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.


 

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'cause I run away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.


 

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

 

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.


 

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.


 

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...


 

What happened was unforeseen,

'cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.


 

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.


 

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...


I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.


Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

This was too much overall...


 

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I was buying a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my autobiography.