Reflections: White Scorpion

my mind
feels its way around
undeveloped
thoughts,
connecting and
reconnecting,

attempting to form

a lucent or

translucent

idea from which

a direction

could emerge,

but,

it is blank,

hollow and
empty --
void of the
tangible or
intangible,
sleeping
in a coma;
eyes dart around
an empty
room,
hoping to find

a memory,            
hoping to find
a spark,
but no one
smokes
anymore;
ears,
that once
generated
jokes,
now hear silence
and
are as dead
as the
night from
which I
awoke;
caffeine cries
hinder
my progress;
lips,
spasm without
words;
emptiness,
echoes through
my body like
chemo infusions,
destroying all
with which
it connects

like orange
agents;
and I,
am left with
fleeting
despair
as though
hummingbirds
were leaving their
nector for
journies
south;
daylight,
now encircles
my
abandoned
thoughts,
herding shedherds
true to
their profession,
relentless
in their
boring routines; but,
thankful
nonetheless;
mountain cats,
climb down
terraced
tree-houses,
searching for
slumber as
hundreds of eyes

look                                        
towards the skies
in search of
anything

ancient while

imagining the loneliness

of not being

alone;

like the feelings

I have

around undeveloped

thoughts

developing

because I had

nothing better

to do

today.

September 8, 2012