Dementia - by Julianna Rowe

 I wrote this upon waking up this morning. My mother has dementia)(

Locked Inside the Mind:

As I sit in your car where all the trails of painful thoughts were left behind I scream for you. For the fear of you, the need for you. Your pain is flailing through the silent red mist and drools over my trembling flesh. Who are you? Why do you leave such red blood of hate like a river spewing from your mind? You talk of God yet Satan’s blood in your brain is thicker than your words. The doors are locked. I kick and scream. I search for something sharp to break free. All the while the blood continues to rise. Am I going to suffocate in the blood of your mental incapacity? I see a key. I grab it with great anticipation it will bring freedom but it falls from my trembling hands into the river of blood. I scramble to find it reaching deep into the recesses of the evil river. Into the remains of what was stolen. My mind! I am startled by the sounds of horns. I jolt and see ahead of me a green light. The siren of the oncoming ambulance brought me back from your daydream. The blood and fear were gone. They whooshed out into oblivion and I was back until the next crashing cassondra of dementia came calling again.