the broken mind
The broken mind
In the gorge, near the river that died five years ago
ago and is a pale scar running from the inland mountains
and down to the coast,
unheard words of lovers come here to die;
“I love you,”” Come back to me,” “I can’t live
without you.”
Whispers in the breeze for no one’s ears but
The intrepid who comes here to conquer his own fear of love.
It is easy to get lost here; the trees are unfriendly
have thorns and branches snap
When you try to climb to see where you are,
and wild beasts follow, waiting for you to succumb,
fall asleep so they can eat your brain
leave you confused, and rescuers will say:
“Poor man has got Alzheimer's.”
The stillness hears fearful screams, the unheard
Last effort before sinking into silence
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