In the Darkening Mind

All is quiet in the darkening mind,
in the thoughts which huddle together, confined
by a child's whispering trails of breath
and eyes empty like the kiss of death.
Locked within these broken walls
and deaf to distant, desperate calls
from shadows on the burning screen
of life and death and in-between,
he's drifting down a bleeding stream,
propelled by a gasping, begging scream
sent forth by slowly bleeding lips
as gulps of time dwindle to sips
and droplets until nothing's left to find.
All is quiet in the darkened mind.