DEMENTIA
It's hard for me to go to sleep.
Each night, though tired, I lie
On my bed, while thoughts bedevil
My mind, when it's for peace I try.
I imagine my brain a place.
My vessels are as roads that go
Somewhere; to dreams, to memories,
To visions of the long ago.
Perhaps it was a great storm,
Or insidious decay
That had disrupted order,
For all is now in disarray.
Relentless, undisciplined,
With sudden energy, neurons
Fly in disorganized frenzy,
Making faulty connections.
Synaptic chaos ensues.
I am engulfed in a terror
Of anxiety and thoughts of death,
The ultimate final horror.
Sentences are not completed,
They are as roads that lead nowhere.
And a long-known face defies
A name with which it must pair.
Awake, I lie there as cells
Tear themselves apart to reach
Their connections, then drop off,
Not knowing there has been a breach.