Our minds are dying

Decaying in the vast continuum of time

Perishing in the slivers of broken universe

Blood seething from fractured thoughts

Silver patterns dancing underneath shadowed souls

Splintered essence crying in an empty hurricane

Black stars sway in ancient vertigo

An endless grey scream pounds against unseen walls

White noise penetrates the soundless waves of agony

Bruises shatter faceless creatures

Nightmares moan in hollow days

Depression punctures deep gashes

In our dying minds

8 thoughts on “Splintered

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  1. Haven’t we already died?
    Isn’t time itself
    An illusion of our child-like minds?
    All death,
    Already is,
    We simply do not know it.

    For that matter,
    All life already is as well,
    And that could be…

      1. Both. Alarming because we lose our footing in a reality we can never really master. Exciting, liberating yet, because after our many shattering experiences, we realize we exist beyond the illusion of linear time.
        I believe our friend Dtdeedge above is honoring your poem precisely in this light, as inherently optimistic. I agree with him, and, to put it into words of my own, our collective non-awareness is indeed dying, so that our minds can be rewired in themselves and meaningfully reconnected with each other. More and more people on this odd little planet are realizing our journeys are one.

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