A haze that forms a sky
trickles down
like droplets of pain,
the more I shift
the less my ideal thoughts decide.
Distant perception
of another lie
relate to time
again, again, another motion
we can't seem to leave behind.
The pulse knocks another
course to distort
the image of another
mind
only after time, again
the trickles moving down your spine.
A beating perception, lonely in desperation
reaching for a distant image
of a memory
disdain, the horrid
vivid
feeding ardently
the agony, felt inside.
Foresee the exit, there's an entrance
to elude
you slowly pursue the perceptions of acceptance
the only thing you can see, leaves you in deceit
the image of another thought you once perceived.
This outward feed to feed within
is reaching for another memory you can't discern.
The only thing left to feel
the only thought left to heal
the memory of dreams
left within.