i am.schizophrenik

there was always a window but
never a view,
we were the wishes that
never came true and it is like
a tornado biting up my senses.

for every one count is
a hundred you's.

i tickle the spine of a lie
full of
neatly wrapped excuses
to ease my own guilt 
of self invented satisfactions of which only
i appreciate.

do you trust me, do you?
I ask a million questions to 
myself,
as i feed words of flattery
just because i want to hear them
& they don't come from you
for you doubt my everything

for you doubt everything.