I.D.-Napping (Worthless Freudian Non-Cents) Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

My ID abducted my ego.
On this roller-coaster of psychopathy, now we go.
Down this tunnel, this shaded peephole
Another asylum re-run, another re-show
 
They say time heals all wounds.
I say; rhymes heal us, and maybe some tunes.
Spritzed with a suicidal poetry perfume
Forget purpose, reproduction, and the womb.
 
If I can rhyme about it
Maybe I'll be fine about it.
Or perhaps I'll be crying about it.
And, dishonestly, just lying about it.
 
Still, the ego may return.
I'm all passion and fire- I burn!
I twist, contort, and I do turn!
Still, not enough to claim the lessons were learned
 
Feminine scenery and rivers-
Shredded in Velvety shivers
Take a taste, just a sliver.
Body jumps in revolt, and it quivers.
 
A secret embedded from conception
My dueling personas, fighting for perfection
Don't recognize each other in my reflection.
Cancel their marriage, the wedding, and reception
 
The battle between animal and man
Refuse to know each other or understand
The human's design, the mold of man
Unknown territory and uninvited land
 
Their conflict causes this struggle, this rage.
How my psyche ended up in this prison, this cage
I'm the star of a screwed up show, left on stage.
Frightened and lonely, please turn the page!
 
Need a solution before it's too late
My mind and soul can't seem to mate.
Because they are opposites, how can they relate?
That contradiction is what penned my fate.
 
So I sit here fuming -
Screaming for mercy, somebody tune in
Like both are stuck in a crate, there's no room in
A grey cloud everywhere I go, always looming.
 
Which do I fit in? A case or a basket?
As I scream that I'm choking! I holler; make a racket!
Begging to be laid in the bed of a satin-filled casket
I can't do it, can't make it, can't last it!
 
One more time,
One final rhyme
I give one more sign.
I write one more line…
 
As my ID suffocates my ego till it's dead
Off with it's bloody, broken head
The war in my mind's finally led.
Me to a path, all I see is The Color Red.
 
Four incisions in each chamber of my heart
Ready to do it; the glorious depart
Dying is beautiful, said it from the start.
I scream it out loud; the opulence of death is an art…


(c) copyright 2018-2020 I.D.-Napping (Worthless Freudian Non-cents) Nicole D'Settemi