Four-cornered room.
Walls of white.
Door, closed;
Locked for the night.

Rain, outside,
sky-diving.
My joy, dead;
Sorrow, thriving.

Like a fungus,
this sadness leeches,
turning me black,
as oil on the beaches.

Clock’s ticking,
loud as a mob.
Tick-tock,
like a constant throb.

Night has fallen,
along with the Sun.
I face my tears,
with my head hung.

Tile floor,
makes them glisten.
Empty silence,
makes me listen.

I hear a whippoorwill,
his song beginning.
It echoes in my head,
which is slowly spinning.

Why am I dizzy?
What’s this pain?
What’s that sound?
Is it the rain?

Tap, tap,
says the rain to the roof.
I’m still here,
hear the proof?

Phone’s dormant.
No one wants to talk.
I feel as loved,
as a dead cornstalk.




Same song,
stuck on replay.
At least that’s something,
that’s here to stay.

A new tune?
What’s this?
Seems there’s naught,
but what I miss.

All’s in the past,
or miles away.
It’s so long gone,
it’s all turned gray.

No more color,
in my memory.
Just the bold shade,
of painful history.

Turn back time,
and I’ll smile.
Even if it only lasts,
for the shortest while.

Or, fast-forward,
to a time of happiness.
If there is none,
where’s the point in this?

The world ends,
in two years?
That’s not even time,
to conquer our fears.

Our ancestors,
they had it wrong.
Or, they were silenced,
before the end of the song.

I’m wishing,
upon a falling star.
Maybe you are, too,
wherever you are.

Like my hopes,
it’s fallen from the top.
Now, all that’s left,
is the fatal stop.




Unless, darling,
you can save me,
from myself,
wherever I may be.

I’m
Laying
On
Violet-beds,
Etching,
Your face,
Onto the sky,
Until you rescue me.