buddhakitty, book 3. so,this is hell

 
 
 
so, this is  
hell  
 
a single drop of rain  
falling in the desert  
 
the last grape left  
behind on the vine
 
becoming lost in the  
asylum hallways of  
thought  
 
a faceless night after  
a faceless day  
 
the cold, sharp metal  
tongue of a knife's edge  
raked across anxious skin  
 
an old man sitting alone  
in a small room covered  
with the flies of memory  
 
what little time is left  
are crumbs scattered  
across the floor  
 
hungry cries the mouth  
 
hungry calls the spirit  
 
hungry mourns the days  
 
a blind cat chasing a  
crippled mouse  
 
a resigned head buried  
between prayerless hands  
 
the harlequin's laughter  
turned acid  
 
this is  
hell