The Colours of Schizophrenia, Page 4
David Holloway
CHAPTER 4 Emptiness
Darkness
In darkness we seek
what is known by the light
My life is hidden
Fridays Child
Caught in the exchange
of words and rage
tryin’ to be ‘Friday’s
Child’…
Looking for support
Knowing the truth
Getting caught up
with the lies
Ending friendships,
burning bridges,
sewing the seeds
of depression
Different traits,
personality clashes
messin’ with my
head
Not holding back,
afraid not to tell
when time is running
out — it’s not too late!
Flicker
She picks up a
razor blade and parades
it around the room.
She is hardened by
the world and fragile
with her affection.
Her flowing mane is
a weapon in a game
of unknowns. The
slightest touch is a
like an electric spark
that cascades down her
spine. By the band
stand is her last
partner, he had to
go, and leave town.
He said that she was
'too risky' and
'random'. It's as if
the world can turn her
on and then off
whenever it wants to.
She is merely a flicker
of chemicals awash with
contamination.
Idealism
Schizophrenia is often
idealised by the desire to
know the law of God and a
love for spiritual gifts, or the
hatred of money and power.
It’s a state of opposites, or
so it seems, as poverty is
compounded by the
philosophy of the ‘saints’.
Yet nobody believes in
their badges of honour,
and their good names are
dragged into the dirt. But
could it be that although
they find it hard to win
the ‘golden ticket’ in life,
there’s no shame in being a
‘diamond in the rough’?
Mirages
I’m having more of
those dreams. This time
I was in the middle of a desert.
The doctors and nurses
were sitting in an oasis as
they beckoned me over.
But I kept seeing mirages,
and my behaviour was a fraud.
I didn’t want what they had;
I wanted to be different,
like a clown in a circus -
except now I was out of
control. I knew that nobody
would understand.
Alogia
The loose association,
eats at your speech like
a cancer, spreading to
all parts of your
organs and terrorises the
negative symptoms. A
man asked you to describe
your family but you thought
about a tree, and it took you
a few minutes to properly
adjust your thinking. You
believed him to be tiresome,
and the conversation was
awkward.
Sweet Whispers
The whisper of the wind
Innocence within our soul
Telling us of love while delivering
us protection
She plays our senses like
a child with a toy, forever
sharing the enjoyment of youth,
laughing and then smiling
Her hands reach far and wide
as her touch is soft and gentle
We must not deny her
calming and soothing effect
The many rainbows of her aura
dazzle us with beauty and serenity,
with a sensual attraction for
every heart that listens
I pray we could remain
a virgin in the sacred form
But each seed must grow into an
flower and face the world
Her voice begins to ebb away,
but there’ll be no farewell for us
We can still feel nature’s power
inside the realm of dreams
Summation
Illusions blur confusions
Aversions make obsessions
Confessions serve progressions
Emotions please relations
Delusions tease conclusions.
E-motion
Words allow meaning,
as our soul and love vibrate
E-motions have truth
The Missing Pieces
I think I’d die to catch her eye
I’d rearrange the stars to hear her sigh
I think I’d perish to feel her kiss,
and know my heart is hit or miss
I cannot dance until I sing to our song
These words of beauty are never wrong
I trust my dreams with her loving mind,
for I believe without her I’m left behind
The missing pieces are mine to keep,
I’m the jigsaw puzzle in her sleep
I’d be forlorn unless she thought of me
We celebrate each anniversary.
I hope she wears her wedding dress,
as I count the days to that caress
I may wilt in summer on a sultry night,
but she’ll pick me up and hold me tight
And if she might yearn for my true hand,
then life is worth living; I understand!
Lost in Wonder
Life only lets us see what death cannot hide.
Soul Drugs
The distance in my soul has helped me
bridge its ‘gaps’
Summer
The wind blows
a gust of irony,
the leaves are
full of mystery
For the flowers
of fragrance
allow my dreams
to dance
And the call of
every wonderer
scatters the
winds of winter
Many of the
moments spark
alive the flutters
in my heart
Solar signs
of the yellow sun,
let me be free
and live as one
Normality
How do we please
the laughing hyenas
who don’t care for
us? They will sell our
souls. When the tables
are turned, only then
will they realise that
normality is not a state
of mind — it’s a point
of view and an opinion
or a perspective!
Clouds in My Eyes
Across the storms of
forgetting, lies a silver
lining. When we follow
a rainbow, a pot of gold
is found. In a deluge
of hail we must take cover.
And the rain it has
a sting like that
over the Ukrainian
skies. And the
wretch that is
psychosis, has threaded
a needle in my pupils. Now
I have clouds in my eyes-
cataracts of doom
that take me to
the crucible of fear,
where the morning never
breaks
‘Schizo’
school. She was confused and
sexual. She would ‘go
with’ strange men, and then
begin to cry. She has long
black hair, and a fondness
of rock music and drugs.
They called her ‘schizo’, but
she was undiagnosed. Perhaps
she would grow out of it?
You could tell that her
parents had no idea what
numbers to ring, or who they
could talk to. The stigma at
that time of her life scarred
her body and her mind!
