That is all

When mental illness trudges the way 

Pulls down the walls of reality

Abrupt end to this opera

Thick black curtains verge upon

Something forgotten

Grey pallid stretch

No vivid genesis

The worlds conception in a mushroom cloud

In starkest sunless silence

I watch the raining fragments

Like a worn reel vomiting its movement 

Like life inside the projector

Drained of its colour

Drained like a sickly human

I watch whats left is rife with cancer

Agonized in a dress of tumours

I see you running

Against the bitter glare of the sunset

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like the "worn reel vomiting its movement"

like it all...you so aptly give us the play of mental illness...the bitter glare, the tumors..and the person seeing her own mind running away...and the curtain falls hard...

j.