Disconnect

The disconnect.

At first a shallow trench,

worming it's way through your bones.

You see it,

"I'll catch myself," you'll say.

Till it burrows deeper,

blasting through your rib cage.

Your brain, a bomb,

ready to go off,

throwing grenades in trenches,

sealing your fate.

Just a disconnect.

But time is no longer real,

and you can't find your feet.

"I'll catch myself," you said.

Flailing through the battlefield,

for anything to catch onto.

Yet there's no longer a warzone,

you don't even have a body now.

The trenches of your bones,

blown to splitters and ash,

leaving nothing but your heart,

gone necrotic,

and endlessly falling.

In simple, empty darkness.

A silent void.

A bottomless blackhole.

You're disconnected.