Depleting pasture of memory, intellectual grasp foregoing reality, lover held his hand during a breaking heart, as the mental curse stole her hero's mind away.
Gene cursed pool disturbance, beckoning worst flat line call ever taken, noose of a sixty five year old man, operator collapsed in remorse as the blip blip turned to bleep's failure to respond, no doctor revival for the man who lost his name.
Death, a dementia relief, fallen paper once stacked beside chair medical trail of an illness no imagination curator should have, finished at the writer's desk, an order not to revive once dead.
A dedication neither unsavoury good nor delightfully bad to a poet's self craft noose, maybe he'd only imagined the blight scenario, maybe he never meant to follow through with this lonely ending, no one ever cared to see and no one will remember.
Onyx synapse cavern not firing an orchestra of twilight beyond risk of a promise to revive. Everything left of us is faded away. May the adventure of creativity be enjoyed by... Someone.
In earnest anticipation of,
VoT
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