She's journeying they say;
Journeying.
They're too scared of the word
To simply say 'dying'
But it is all too clear.
I'm sure she knows,
Just us well as they,
Even though her mind is such a muddle.
She doesn't eat
Or leave her bed
And a machine outside her door
pumps air into her lungs for her.
When you try to talk to her
You get lifeless eyes,
As if she's already died
But her body kept on breathing.
Everyone can see it.
They stop what they are doing
To look into her room,
But they never stay for long
Even with all the curiosity in the world
It's not something you really want to witness.
The terribly slow
fading of a life.

I lie awake in the bed
Awaiting a dormant state, a state so elusive so far,
In the cold black room I lay
As expectant eyes burn and water at the witching hour.

I feel something in the gut.
I try to remember people, happy faces, in hopes to sedate.
But something is horribly wrong,
For eerie moonlight does enter the window, but does not illuminate.

The scathing silence gives way
To the horrid sounds of unearthed graves.
The hollow feeling gives way
For doors to open of where death is only a slave.

I am not alone in the room now,
For I feel a presence so vile,
Personification of decay with a blackening aura
Itself smiled a black toothed smile.

I clench with sweaty fingers, my sheets,
My mind conflicted between terror and utter denial.
Every day, I only watch helplessly
As my own mind devours its sanity.

The light is flickering, and then it is gone.
The world is plunged into shadow,
Like a wave,
Washing over an already finished canvas.

I tremble as an infantile stranger,
Passes me a weak cup of tea,
Made just the way I like it, they say.

Words are uttered in a foreign tongue,
Faces are distorted.
Thoughts are hazy,
and memory a blur.

I am a shadow of my former self.
Blind in the darkness. Unseeing.  
Searching alone,
Swallowed by the deafening buzz of foreign noise.

The light is flickering, and then it is on,
The world is bright and I am safe,
I smile as my granddaughter passes me my tea,
Made just the way I like it.

Love is what drives me towards the light,
When I lie in bed and think at night.
Although I drift away for a while,
I am always there.
Remember child.

If I could keep my thoughts together, life would be so much better!
Thoughts must flow like a river or stream
With no obstacles in between.
They say dementia starts very slow, with certain
Patterns that we should know.
However, is it dementia that we go through? That we forget
What we are supposed to do!
Or is it that we close our minds to the things we are afraid to find?
So many questions can stop this flow
And by seeing these obstacles, the decisions we will know.
I feel the flow of thoughts on its way!
(I just forgot what I was going to say)    ha ha dementia!
Once the obstacle is found, you either remove it or go around.
Your chain of thought is starting to get momentum
Like a train on its track – now look forward, do not look back!
(Ooops forgot what I was going to say)
Oh, yes!  Is it old age ramblings or dementia?
I guess you will have to answer that! I did not look forward – I looked back!
Ha ha – enjoy your mind – because we will lose it with time!

Caught lying down
The violet kiss
The twilight's wisp
At April's end
Resonates in lungs
Here is to calling emotions
Here in the green grass and the wind
Here is to culling memories
It's no lake, though,
It's too late, now
Chest pull, brain float
Alone in the motionless ocean, so cold
We turn black, earth and I, partners of stars caught staring up
What man made slow bleeds from the world as I sing
Wary, weightless, spinning in white flecked purple, in orbit or free fall
Orbiting free fall

I found elation, but can't find connection
I could have grown mushrooms on touchdown
I traded memory for medicine

Twilight, violet, orbit, all words I've used before and always, tightly, weave into the living picture painted years and years on all alone on reset honing torment to the self as if as if perpetuating involuntary EVA will translate to a skill that will well elevate me from the cave, the only connection, that I've built by locking up all my insides in taking pills that I fell back on for happiness and to get a rattled head settled to the ground rather stripped me of what history I lived and put my weary body in the open for all the universe's bitter energies to infinitely catch me floating lying down.

It's all I could ever do to read this
informative wall scrawl, idle
eyes hiding from peripheral refuse
scripting lines in lines in lines
the lines
engulf and then recede at light speed
inverted to white on black as the last night's
last bright stars erased over our expanse and
while I continue to dig, I await some conclusion or loop
wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait
while I continue to wait, I dig at conclusion or loophole to return
I find only my positive proof to the absolute
Did we move?
I never did