The stut of dry silence

And drear must of boredom

Cover the room

In cancerous echoes.

 

Outside darkness

Pours thick on the window

With rolly smoke thinning

Evaporating.

 

Then a thought breaks

From the chains of my skull

Leaps into form

A beast alive.

 

Huffed lungs in the corner

I cannot move

It is bigger than me.

Independent.

 

I barely recognize it

As my creation

It eats the future

Of the room

Then escapes the moment

 

And I am not sure

If I will ever think

Again.