It starts.
Stale, empty air
A fracture of the mind,
The need to be repaired.
Reality blurs,
Concepts need definition.
Worlds ravel,
Spinning dark and glistening tapestries
Before my mind's eye.
Yet I cannot grasp them,
The further I reach
The further they pull,
And the further I fall.
A fracture is filled with
Congealed blood and black cement,
Clotting every pore of my mind.
My brain ceases to breathe.
It is a block.
And the weight
Of yet another failure
Is all I have to show
For the miles of blur and coma.