Blowing about in a hurricane Eyes forced closed with someone elses heart Strifeful waves batter steady rocks 'til the caves fall in and the sands shift, part, and absorb Like the butterfly in the world-winds battered and strong, graceful but weak Never looking through the static dying for its stripes. It ain't real, shouldn't be real What was it that i claimed to feel? can't be real, won't be real another life of shit to heal? praying for death if only for that night existence laid down for one last pure delight comfort of silk, union of minds not to be. Laying down now into my shell of ebbing gold glowing into forever a stone to muse over in the river of time and to discard in ultimate mercy. opportunity gone and with it doubt she's the one thing i'll have to live without and that's the one thing i'd die to change (which wouldn't make much sense) Time to suffer in my own remedy Ain't that the way dementia should be quest for perfection undermined instantly by a human desire i just can't set free.
Your poem seems like something written while warming up to write. I can't understand that much of it and the flow is so choppy. Read it out loud to one of your friends or family and see what they think. There's a message in there but its very cloudy.
mm-hmm, consider it an unrehearsed flow of *stoned* internal dialogue Or shapeless metaphors, and references to something I know about
