This poem may need some explaination for some people. Although I dont want to over explain it, this poem is about two different things. First, the anti-intuitive effects of antidepressant drugs to warp reality and behaviour before easing them. The other, a disorder called depersonalisation disorder, the symptoms of which may be familiar to some people with anxiety and depression. The disorder may make the sufferer feel detached from their own body and self, or alternatively from the world and reality. Unlike some delusional disorders the sufferer knows exactly what is going on... they just feel like they are watching through glass or from afar.
the skin of our reality
is a beasts hide
and he's breathing
The swaying curtain,
The basket, full of
green spire leaves,
swells like a lung.
The price of sanity;
Irratic behavior and
I would say it was
But really its just the way chemicals work.
Everything's backwards in medicine
yet it makes perfect sense
I would almost say Hahnemann had a point...
But that WOULD be madness.
The lamplight shifts in waves
The shifting skin of reality;
better than the transparent one.
You look through to the empty.
An expanse, full to the brim with
waiting to come in.
Solid objects are hollow like game characters
with the camera inside
and nothing but infinitely thin picture plastered on their surface
Im optimistic when the sun shines...
so long as the skin is opaque.
Translucent skins dont reflect light.
Everybody knows that.
Otherwise they wouldnt be see-through.
But now the chemicals ripple the room around me like a pool.
Im fond of the sleeping beast.
His heaving sleep reeks of
He'll wander off once the drugs stablise anyway.