A fragrant mist of footsteps leaving.

The mind,
a dark place,
held not to be ransomed.

Thoughts... connecting
as whispering states,
recieve their welcome,
denying none.

Shattered pieces of truth and lies,
better left untouched.

Distance hears their reckless forming.

Intelligence asks,
before safely resting
on the edge of unreliability.

Wounds heal not,
pressuring strands of uncertainty
against our bodies of imagery.

Overindulged in its retired view,
being still unsatisfied,
we weep.

when we lose a loved one...
we all border on insanity for a while....
very dark one here!

I've bordered insanity, crossed the line, double crossed the line, went
around the line, erased the line, and took it hook LINE and sinker