senses

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sensesAt first your lies fell onto me like snowflakes —
your touch licked at my flesh like serpent tongues,
The painful pleasure of scratched vinyl.
Explosions of emotions left shrapnel in its wake,
sharp jagged feelings ripped raw then exposed crackle-like live wires.
Now your lies chisel hideous abstract sculptures in my mind …
your presence is revulsion and disdain personified.
I dry heave the taste of bile response to your touch,
the fantasy crumbles into a dystopian dream.

About Mr BPD

About Author. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and as a writer and poet I explore my madness through the creative arts. I have a personal belief that even in darkness light exists and it is a personal responsibility to always seek the light and I find the light in creating something.
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