Disjointed reflections of vertebrae
that were fluid in the synapsis of
my subconsciousness.
they were inadvertently disjointed
from my walking thought.
Then I fell beneath the tower that
I had build within,
collateral damage of life.
Broken windows of reflection that
I tried to close, but lacerated my
cognitive actualization of self.
That which severed my validity of self
was pendulous, but with a
string we can weave something new.
Not as it was before, more worn and not
so luminous, but what was lost is gained
for that voice a lingering a shadow of before.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
Disjointed reflections of vertebrae
that were fluid in the synapsis of
my subconsciousness.
they were inadvertently disjointed
from my walking thought.
Then I fell beneath the tower that
I had build within,
collateral damage of life.
Broken windows of reflection that
I tried to close, but lacerated my
cognitive actualization of self.
That which severed my validity of self
was pendulous, but with a
string we can weave something new.
Not as it was before, more worn and not
so luminous, but what was lost is gained
for that voice a lingering a shadow of before.
A poem on depression
