The air stings with the thick smell of brimstone
And burning flesh.
Here, there is no soil.
Only gray matter separating you from
The thousands of nightmares and dreams lurking below.
Here, all are sacrificed to the greater good;
Which has become so distorted and twisted
By the razor sharp cyclones of this realm
That the greater good is now indistinguishable from
The common denominator.
The creatures of this land burn eternally
And weep rivers of sorrow sorbet.
The sun cracks through its cocoon of cloud cover
Only briefly before a new war ignites,
Plunging this godless, forsaken land
Further into the depths of the gray.
Day and night become one.
And as the ground before me begins to breathe,
I cannot help
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
The second part to the collection “MINDSCAPES OF MNDFL”
I didn't start writing until recently. When I did I stuck to what I had learned from my favorite poet: Rhyming is dope. I try to connect with my viewers on an emotional level, because like many people, I too have mental illnesses plaguing my thoughts. Written under aliases 'Absent Minded' and 'MNDFL'