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TenebrisEdit

My second poem.



Section 1 - Absque



I feel stuck.

Trapped.

I feel contained in a small can that I can't open.

My mind is going in circles again.

My head feels heavy,

But I'm trying not to fall asleep.

I'm not even sure if I can fall asleep again.

My eyes.

I'm not even sure if they're open or not.

Either way, I'm trying not to close them in case I see something new.

Eyelids.

Do I have eyelids?

Do I even have a body?

Or a heart?

Or a soul?

I have remorse, and regret, and sorrow.

I have emotions.

But emotions come from the brain, not from the heart.

And I have a brain, I know that.

I have life.


I feel like a door needs to opened.

A void needs to be filled.

Everyday I sit idly by my glass window and see the few pass by without a word,

They trudge on like dogs through the thick of the void, gripped with terror.

They can see me, feel me, hear me,

But they won't touch me or notice me.

I hang on to my hope.

I tear in to their fear.

Anticipation.

Maybe someone will stick around so all my hard work won't go to waste.

Maybe.



They're shaking.

Neon blood in their veins.

The pendulum swings closer and closer and closer.

They bend and they chew,

Leaning back into oblivion.

I can't see daylight.

No light.

Curled up on the bathroom floor.

I wish I could feel the wind,

Through my hair.

My hair?

And past my ears.

I can't hear the sounds now, can I?

Happy birthday.

Awaiting your deconstruction.

And you fall.

From the high cliff into the void.


Wear the mask.

Wear it.

This is a building you haven't seen before.

You feel small inside that alien womb, don't you?

Tortured by the silent apocalypse.

Blood on a rusty chain.

Suffer.

Can you hear me?

The chair and the rope are your escape route.

You've locked your keys inside your car again.

Don't go into my house.

Don't go into my room.

Don't.

You shouldn't have done that.



Section 2 - Tangibile



I remember the city.

Sheets of rain patterning the window.

I long to hear your laughter and smell your perfume,

But my hands do not reach far enough.

Running up the stairs towards the vacancy of pain.

Maybe I can fill the void.

You live only in the past, in the dimmed reflection of the mirror,

But I remember.

The vision of your eyes drawn into my head.

I wish I could walk backwards,

And find you,

See you, 

Touch you,

But you're gone.

Just a ghost in my mind.


I think about you sometimes,

In the room sliding across the frame.

Hoping that the end really isn't the end.

I can't control my helplessness.

Sometimes it disappears but I know it's always there.

Like you.

I wish I was blank.

Like an unpainted canvas.

With no features, so I could seal myself in the basement wall.

And see you walk by,

And smell your perfume and hear your laughter and reach out and touch you.

Or just watch you.

Watch you.

Watching you.


I wish I could paint a picture of you.

And watch it burn.

I try to make you fade away,

But you linger like a lampshade in the dark.

And I cry.

Because my heart beats still,

And I am nothing but a face in a forgotten portrait.

I try to smile sometimes,

But you're always behind me, twisting my screws,

Making me remember.

Lock me in the crypt, pull at my leash.

Let me out.


You win.

You've created a monster.

There's no noise beneath the floor,

Except giggling.

Ha ha.

There is nothing between us,

Except the shadows life and death.

A glass wall,

Where I see the few pass without a word.

Trudging on like dogs through the thick of the void, gripped with terror.

They can see me, hear me, feel me,

But they won't touch me or notice me.

I wish I could take shelter,

From you, from all of this,

But the room runs red and I start giggling again.

Bar me inside so the monster can't get out.

Throw the key away so I can't find it.

Close the door.

Help me.

Help.

I feel lost.

Empty.

And cold.

So cold....

I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

I don't want to die.

I'm scared.

WhiteFace 9613

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