Exploration

There are holes in my mind.
Deep and secret.
Nothing comes in or out of them.
Hours of my life are lost
Contemplating the flora and fauna within them.

Alien shells and skeletons
of thoughts long dead.
They do not stop occupying their space,
But gently decompose.
I'm not sure whether to mourn them or
Study them.

It's cold inside the holes of my mind.
And I wish for fire, for
Life.
Something honest and unadulterated;
A consuming mass of energy that will shake
my dead world.

Movement is slow,
Time is nothing,
Frustration is quiet and complete.
I get lost.
I feel less as time goes on.