There comes a point 

In time,

When I have sucked it up and up 

And up

Until my head is smashed,

And my brain pounded,   

By these hallucinations 

And figments of a tortured mind

That are endless,

Repeated and repeated 

Day after Groundhog Day.

Listening misery is supplanting,

The desire to live.

Each day 

For months and years,

A new beginning for the enunciator

For memory of what was said the day before,

For endless hours,

Has been wiped away. 

That blank page 

Is soon being filled

By the supposed memories.

New utterances,

For the speaker, 

But not,

For the listener.

Slowly 

Slowly but surely,

I am being ground down

And worn to a frazzled replica

Of myself.

Trying

Within the encroaching darkness,

Sucking  the light from my mind,

To stay the course.

There will come a point 

An endpoint,

Of no return.