The Quiet I Hate

Lost perspective is ominous silence

that sits alone on a bench

without a friend in the world.

Freely

it offers sensory erosion

a complimentary psychosis

with cyanide cocktails at seven.

*

When hopelessness gains a foothold

reason becomes fallen prey

ripped bleeding heart

canine-punctured lungs

as hyenas feast in ravenous frenzy.

Missed signs and symptoms.

No motion sensors tripped.

Invalid threat assessment.

*

Darkness this patient

chooses its moments,

is venomous poison

voracious cannibal

that denies a customary sick note

and sends you on your way

externally intact

rife with confusion

and nobody knows

and nobody has time

in a world self-predicated on fast-moving everything

you evolved

attention spans shortened

cognitive process subpar

long term memory screwed

to assuage traumata for all who disappeared

from lost perspective

in ominous silence.

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