Torn

Between tearing this down 

or keeping it up.

I feel I may be losing the richness

already,

as we all will

My vision wanes,

as does the muscle

But being engaged in the moment

appears to elude me

Though it’s not that I want it to.

I fear my mind will go

the way of my mother,

and her mother before

Unless cancer or a heart attack

gets me first 

Time, bastard time

running by now

unaffected by itself.

I dreamed of knowing you

like an experience

And giving that up,

completely?

Well, that’d make me

better at chess,

Because that’s another game

without any hope

But it’s really just me,

just me.

Waking in an asylum

it would be

just

another day

Ah, richness.  Hello muse.