The title is more of a description of exactly where this came from. I sent a friend the first stanza to see what he thought of it, and instead he responded with one of his own. We just kept it going. It was all basically freestyled so be kind lol.
An Untitled Cell Phone Conversation
My mind meddles maliciously
Amongst the meaningless.
Mimmicking a mastery
Of misinterpretation and misuse.
Misplaced and malnourished,
mangling any image mirroring
The most minuscule mirage of morality
My soul slumbers
In shadows of skepticism.
Submerged is scenaries of sorrow,
Seemingly surreal yet strangely sincere.
Striving to sustain the serenity
Of a spirited surrounding
By submitting to solitude.
Shameful of the severance of sanity
It may showcase.
All Desire has diminished.
Daring doubt to dissect
And devour the the suddenly distant
Dream of divinity.
Now diluted and drained,
The disillusion dims
devulging only darkness and dispair.
Confined to cement on a colorless canvas.
A casual casualty,
Condemned to currents
Of Contemplation.
Channeled by a complete
Yet cynical coherence.
All feeling forgotten.
Only Fear flourishes,
Fermenting before finally
Asphuxiating the minds freedom.
Forcing a failing fortitude
Followed be fierce confinement
Immune to the emptiness
of Isolation yet infactuated
With its imperfections.
Immensed in an illness
Too intense to heal.
Imagination imprisoned by intellect,
Incarcerated and insignificant.
Reminiscing only results
In resounding resentment
Towards what remains.
Restlessly reaching for retired moments,
Reading through reasons
For right turning so wrong
And reviling the clocks
Recklessly rapid revolutions as time
Refuses to refrain,.
