dementia

I tread on the cusp of dementia
Where nightmares shudder to wander

A place born
Of the need for an end not permitted,
By slight or circumstance

A place haunted
By the specters of despair
And memories foreign to the caress of compassion

An all pervading pressure.
It tears away what you are
What you were
And any hope
For something you might one day be

I'm coming to understand
This schizophrenic friend
And welcoming the enlightenment
Effectively digging myself a hole
Where only a ditch is needed

I've begun to see life
As though through a semi-permeable membrane
And I assume I ooze pain to the public
In a similar fashion

I speak volumes to the anons
Through my erratic attempts to speak,
When I give in to silence
I imagine I will have reached my trough
Or my unintelligible peak

A place out of reach
Of common-place terms such as sadness,
A place too far gone
For the likes of 'mere' madness