The Brink

Hi to my supporters. This poem represents the challenge that sometimes happens within my own mind, an almost-constant struggle to stave off strange thoughts and sliding emotions. It shows how even my structured mind derails so quickly and fervently that it taxes me to think things through.

This is like my mind, logic then BOOM it drops off the face of the earth

The Brink

I stand at the constant brink,
my mind a lens that magnifies...
distance is a free-fall game,
a hard-edged fractal spinning lies.

I toe the line and consider the leap,
the steep incline of Sysiphus's plight...
backing down is no longer my intent to keep
the spinning gears in my brain alight.

I look into the blackest void,
trying to avoid the weakest signal shown...
fear is no longer a glowing beacon in Metroid
but a real-life rolling rock of life-sized horrors thrown.

Fantastic, I think to myself, the stirring of emotional empathy a knot of roiling burdens whirling and gyrating slow-motion beneath the toxic slime upon the skinned surface. I free-fall through the dungeons and caverns that my mind has ever developed to sever and find kind words among the whining lies of miscreants and child-like omissions.