The Spiral

The cord has snapped, where am I now?
Demented clowns, all around.
I came so far, I became a god.
This round has slammed me to the ground.
My mind is unsound, and obscurity abounds.
The trees don't even look the same.
The air, feels different.
I seek the next stimulant.
What do I trust?
I fear, I'm done with it.
My soul has perished.
My mind is not too far behind.
What is this world? What is my crime?
Bells ring cynical chimes.
Burning dimes, and scribbling rhymes.
What am I? My life's, in shreds.
Perhaps this is what it takes,
for the poet to write again.

My God,
My pod,
Why have you forsaken me?

                        -Justin Blake Poythress
                                                1/24/2015