Perverse Mind

A unique poem about my twisted mind and how some bad memories consume themselves.

-Perverse Mind-
by
Keaton Foster



Out there
Where
Nowhere clear
Just a place
A home of infinite waste
A wilderness devoid of shape
Many memories run wild
Like predators with no prey
Upon themselves they feast
Until a point when my mind
No longer allows them to be
Then both them and I
Are forever separated and freed
Never will I again believe
Or perceive what was once known
More real than anything dreamed
There are only a few terrible memories left
Only the most dangerous of creatures
That have somehow managed to thrive
Upon themselves they manage to dine
Upon themselves they have grown fat
Succulently repugnant over exaggerations
Of what they mean to me and my life
Those few that are left are dangerous
Those few left will not die from starvation
But rather the gluttonous ways
In which they consume themselves
Only when their wrenched stomachs are overstuffed
Will what they once meant
Be removed from the deepest travesties
Or my overly encompassed
Perverse mind...


Perverse Mind
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013