haunted (paranoia & the past)

I am just a ghost, drifting in and out of reality, my soul dead long back, and my body a drifting shadow,
But haunted and deconstructed by my own creation, this ghost is I, my own mindscape,
Designed by my own fault, my neurosis, I haunt myself, my own sunken face, sunken mind,
It is time to go, to exorcise, to redeem this person, to release the phantom,
To step into the bloodied shattered glass, and stop this haunting of myself.

I am simply a ghost, dead inside, just a body, un-dead, walking the earth, in circles of defeat,
Haunted by my own transgressions, by my own failures,
Writing words, writing music, lines and notes, sounds and phrases that break my bloodless heart,
Unheard by anyone, the thunderous silence, nobody hears or sees,
But then I live in my own past, my memories that destroy from the inside out, disease-like.

Too many paranoid painful ideas, mindful of insanity, twisted by thorns and bitterness,
But of my own creation, what else can there be, what else do I know, what else can I know?
Except the phantoms, the nightmares, the harbingers of black angels I have created,
I haunt myself, nobody else to blame, I destroyed it all, so many times murdered, my own past,
Now just regret and sorrow, a vale of tears and still sorrowful lakes.

I live in my own past; I exist in a land of ex-shadows, of times gone by, in the scent of dried roses,
Nobody else is there, just me, alone, a rose-thorn and a scream from the soul silenced by nothingness,
Going over fruitless scenes, unable to alter them, lost and forgotten times, dead times,
The same people, same situations, long gone now, just dust,
They live in a world of reality, onwards toward the sun, while I am lost in my labyrinthine mind.

Every painful and lost drip of paranoia, like crimson blood, has been wrong, so wrong,
The past accursed you, accused you, and I lost you in my so doing,
This glass has to shatter, I have to step through it, blood soaked and bloodied perhaps,
But no more haunting of myself, of my past, or the wrongness and paranoia,
Enough.

Paranoia and the past have destroyed my now, taken life from me, led me to dark corners of obsession,
They have made me face up to myself, to see myself, to realise the mistakes, to face up to me,
My awfulness about you, disgusting, disrespectful, and despicable,
Which helped me loose you, destroying something good; can it now build me anew?
To long have I lived in regret.

It is time to stop, to line the blackness with crimson and violet, to see the colours, somehow,
The hardest fight of my life, against my subconscious, myself, my hate and me,
Leave the past where it is, just shadows and ghosts, no longer there, just dust,
See reality; see life, not blind screaming paranoia, I can not have this any more,
Time to stop haunting myself, I either realise and change, or die!

It is time to stop, and breathe.

Martin Gaughan
13/4/09