He waits by the streaming Falls.
A healthy mind is stalled by a growing void.
It spills deeper into a pipework of drains,
flowing through the unfamiliar, orderly path.
As he searches for simple acknowledgment and respect,
his thoughts are sucked swiftly to the fathomless pit.
The mind cries out for any response
to gain hold of the slippery slide it plummets through.
All that comes swirling back is a mocking echo,
ringing up and down the pipes. Scuoosh!
And there it goes.
Lucidity is flushed away.
Ungrounded as he is,
he loses sight to the fog.
Piercing buzzing sounds cloud out all words
as spinning wires snake around his floating body.
Reaching through the shadowy murk,
clouds of confusion consume his cagey consciousness.
Burgeoning anxiety fosters the crippling fear
that builds a barrier between the pit and murky skies.
So distant and disconnected from his rationale,
he cannot link together his whole self alone.
If only his split self were strong enough
to voice his wild, imaginative fears aloud,
his reason would ascend from the scoured drain of dejection,
allowing him to see just how unrealistic they are.
Reality would return with his restored sunken senses.
At last he would be whole enough to rejoin the sweet mist of the Falls.