When the Mind Collapses
Writing a Story
As I sit down to write a story,
I often start by remembering what it means to be human.
I will breathe like I am being born for the first time.
I will look down at my hands and legs,
I will feel the air around me.
As I sit down to write a story,
I recount the human experience.
I think about pointless war and the suffering that follows.
I imagine what it means to have nothing,
and lean back and think, for hours.
After I have remembered all of this,
I let the words type themselves as though it was
not me typing, but rather a more thoughtful version of me.
Well, No.
The mind is a war-torn land in which nothing thrives.
Each is left to their own devices,
trying hard to change a reality that will never budge.
Some pray for an end to the madness,
but the death knell never stops ringing,
at least not until we are all gone.