Pseudopsychosis.

Let us speak in exotic gestures
Moving through the descent
Of a dream, this silent mind escapes
Through the recurrent dismal shadows
In the memory;
A cigarette in a dance, while you never speak
There is silence in a tribe
Scraping to kill each other slowly
Leaving, you’re leaving in the dark archipelago,
The ghost in the isthmus
Upon mercy covered in blood
Kicking like a wave to leave me alone
Whored out to our eyes, lost in the eerie lights and traffic,
Mind mantic, the silence, the silence.

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A piece I originally wrote weeks ago, revised a couple times, categorized as a draft. It is not complete, so I might revisit it in the near or distant future again.