Wednesday, February 18, 2015

room, time & space

Cracked plaster ceiling
brooding, gloomy
over my position
in this empty room that's
tempting me to sin.
Wails of phantom sirens
slowly descend
and ring like the drops
of condensation off the windowpane
north of the dusty table.
Trace a finger in
the fine gray haze-
patterns and stars
and things not meant to fly
scraped raw in smut I
raise head and growl reply.
Fat humidity drops
spoil the dirty canvass
extinguishing my stars
with hushed and anguished plops
makeshift bed merely
receptacle for my rebellious
drunken head-
more satisfied to sit and watch
then save the ashen asterisks
now scorchmarks
pithy sorrows etched
indelibly on wood.
Window painted shut-
see only gray shadows
ingrained where visitors stood-
trail clumsy fingers on
sludgy table full of grime
that colors lungs and
souls filthy hues
and seethes of crime.
I scratch at cracked plaster
revealing however slight
through fingernail trails
resounding rays of starlight-
oh to pierce this dull abyss
to surge over tonight
the desolate precipice.

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