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Dementia.

Those days of blues and greys fading into black
are waiting in anticipation just behind my back,
gathering momentum
before they swoop in to attack
my equilibrium
and dash and smash my days into the ground.
Without a sound they rent the greys to shreds
and blood is running
red, red, red inside my head.
Ribbons of silk and sorrow leaving no trace
of who I am or where I've gone, as they erase
and conquer the essential me at last.

VS March 1 2016.

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Empty Air Like time, like sand, like air in my hand your image falls away. Fingers open in a prayer but there is only empty air in my empty hand.