Derogatory Auditory Poem by mike ruthenbeck

My sandy guts in grinding gyrations
Ache through exhausted yet atrophied limbs
Depressively stagnant inhalations
Preceding confusing mind leaping skims
I ask myself, alone in the dark,
“do I have control? What’s wrong in my brain? ”
Commercially social amusement park
Gaining momentum is hard to explain
Detached, I feel, from the characters’ ebb
And morbidly lost in some sort of dread
Trapped in terrible Ungoliant’s web;
In fictional terms, I’m already dead.
Eyeballs about to explode from my head
As mounting pressure slowly increases
A trillion thoughts are remaining unsaid
I feel as though I’m broken in pieces…
I sit up with a ghost, all through the night;
Speaking from just beyond line of sight.