Mental Atrophy

Nothing but pills and lonely thought,
Keep your pulse alive, churning blood in your heart,
To provide the musical beat for the withering synapses,
And the crawling desire for endless boredom.

Holding the days that you once cared so near--
The era of finding truth among the lines of abstraction,
The period of rainy day clarification—
Dish out the hope of returning to that gentle time,
And locating a place of action and reaction.

Hands feel as putty now, shaking and deluded;
With raging feelings of shock that the endgame is played
Upon the board of dissatisfaction, within the peaceful
Feelings of benevolent stillness hold the vice,
And conceal the hammer,
To pin you and all you know to the board
In eternal spinning ennui.
.