Sinking into a quagmire of unequaled loneliness,
traipsing away from all I know and love.
Reiterating the past in visions of images, growing
fainter, soon to disappear forever.
There's no stopping effects of aging, but there's
an even more sinister deterioration as my brain
shrinks and loses it's elasticity.
Falling into an abyss of fading memories I wonder
how I'll be able to write when there are none left
to access.
Will I still be an automatic writer, or will I no
longer be able to express myself in poetry?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem