Disposal of Solitude - At Least I'M Trying

I acquire grievous compost in my mind’s glass eye, piles and piles of waste debris lingers- my subconscious feeds my intellect and I am left breathing pure black ash sinister by true nature yet pure as the whitest gold, I seek the landfill only the poor seek; for the needy realize the worth of nourishment, not material wealth my mind cracks open ineffably with vivid memories, and this junkyard dwells where things do not inhabit the universe - well needed healthy thoughts ascend when the pure crystalline hourglass stands perfectly still- (as still as an imperial monumental column) fear of the acumen residue in my dark mind procures, feet planted firmly, standing upright- ephemeral thoughts in my mind’s glass eye flow through my bone marrow- I embrace the remnants of solitude that restlessly reside in my favorite junkyard; (where I shall salvage what joy I have left, and yearn to dispose of pain's refuse) 22 lines (sorry I just could not delete anymore lines) October 31, 2019 Craig Cornish My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest