A wild band of maniacs
command me
I am hostage
given the liberty
to think
but not to feel
they feed me futures
the bones of tasks
I am hunted
with a shield of invisible ideas
I am naked to the truth
hurting by the clouded horizon
I poeticize my hypocrisy
I am of thieves
after masks I’d like to kiss
I’m heading towards madness
together with my wild pack of beasts
Beyond Language 
YOU wrote:
“hurting by the clouded horizon
I poeticize my hypocrisy
I am of thieves
after masks I’d like to kiss
I’m heading towards madness
together with my wild pack of beasts”
Wow. That is really potent. I’ve often felt this way in my own unique sense. Incredible.
I’ve started to chronicle my own confessions, no matter what they are. Check it out. It’s nothing as powerful, yet, as you’ve just written.