The Golden Mind

The broken mind In the gorge, near the river that died five years ago and is a pale scar running from 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 that comes here to conquer his own fear of love. It is easy to get lost here trees are unfriendly have thorns and branches snap when you try to climb to see where you are, and wild beasts follow wait for you to succumb, fall asleep so they can eat your brain leave you confused, and rescuers will say: “Poor man has got the Alzheimer.” The stillness hears fearful screams, the unheard last effort before sinking into silence