I.
Dreaming in the dark hours
to the terror of mirrors.
Glittering substance
litters the asphalt, stuff
of crushed ice dispensers.
Red-black pool of oil spills
from the mangled metal,
resembling a surreal-
ist sculpture. Limp hands
dangle, bloodless and pale.
That's how I pictured it.
II.
How awesome, how awful,
that in one split second, something
whole can be irreversibly shattered.
One moment, a couple pulls out of a
Taco Bell; then, a screech of brakes
and wheels, a molten shower
of sparks that skitter
like beads of a necklace ---
a child, orphaned.
Each splinter would then be
considered its own whole, no more
comprising the entire (bent, steel)
framework, but part of something
larger, still. A bird on a mural.
A hymn to a symphony,
building up to a crescendo
more fearful than life itself.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/47439024-288-k968152.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Landscapes of the Mind - Poems
Poetry❝ ... abyss without color or stars, black hole we know not of until we are confronted by it. ❞ Poems of life, love, and mental illness not-so-loosely based on experience. ❋ ❋ ❋ © Copyright 2015-2017, by April Nicole Jones.