Pooled string, Current location, & It blinks

Pooled string

Floor stained with drips and pools of blood,
clothes ripped, torn, and spotted with mud.
Many times my mind has fought and bled,
confronting the view in my twisted head.
Conscious or dreaming the thoughts turn,
against the wall they heat to burn.
Darken themselves into a shadows hue,
captured, stoned, and shelved for view.
The mess my head displays to see,
disorganized thoughts all for me.
Uncoiled, rusted, its lost its spring,
stained, dripped, and pooled is the string.
Moments filled with a shady liquid dark,
dampening, covering the lights spark.
Blinding the future of strings time,
the walls and floors lined with grime.
Shadows emerging stoning and shelving themselves,
forcefully into thoughts they jump, they delve.
Dreams of drying a drowned sparks wick,
replacing an empty rooms broken candled stick.
These thoughts I think when I ponder the way I do,
sitting, staring at an empty shadows view.

Current location

My hearts breaking for a blister from my tears,
draining the strength over the last few years.
Valleys flooded, shadows running free,
rooms, shelves as far as I can see.
Blinded to what the future holds,
what laundry to clean and patiently fold.
Through cracked lenses I currently peer,
standing alone right left next to here.
I'm looking at a laying broken broom,
with a fed spider, in a quiet room.

It blinks

I love and hate the way my mind thinks,
how it slows and speeds up blinks.
Lightens and darkens the way it views,
all the shadows created, different hues.
Rooms empty and filled with light,
others cluttered and dark as night.
Spiders and flies creep, crawl, and fly,
reflective images of the times I've cried.
Each thought takes time to deceive,
like an eyelid opening and closing to breathe.
I love and hate the way my mind blinks,
but this is just how it thinks.