Diminished
My known, soothing landscapes,
grown from my own hues and shapes,
somehow vanquished their view.
Just one more sore blister of news
to aid my staid mind’s gist of confused.
My angered fist punched tears in their wake
before my shock shakily jot them on a list
of all my heart sought to restore propped.
Truth and I both awoke the first day of last September.
Coffee bound, then mumming around, it was not
long before I felt scared and anxiety provoked ~
?? ... the kitchen was in disorder,
nothing in its place * as I thought it over, I
realized all rooms were oddly rearranged *
back in my room, I paled at a stranger's
face in the mirror, a white-haired woman
wearing my face * the scales said I had
lost 20 pounds some place ... ??
I sagged to the floor from facts scored.
Should I wake my sleeping man to
answer my questions and more?
My fear decided I should hide
inside ignorance while I had the
chance. I was scared once truth made
up my bed, my life might fully
deplete under my own sheets.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Though details are clouded, I have surely been rerouted.
I try but fail to decipher what all determined this matter.
Prime pieces of me were clearly scattered blind-battered
by forces cemented to time-tatter my mind demented.
It feels as though I have been divorced from myself
by means of some unleashed, bruiser intruder.
I lack all recall of three times three hundred and sixty-five days.
My doctor cannot explain what dementia did to my brain.
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