Again, like the last time, I
Beat, pound, smash upon the
Closed, locked
Door,
Every rap sending violent chills,
Feverish icy madness down my spine. I can feel slight temptation
Going through the creaking hinges, but yet a
Harrowing silence still lingers
In the air.
Just a second, a
Kiss of the head upon the handle,
Losing its grip on the frame that so limits
Me, keeping me on the floor.
Now is the time that I throw myself
Over the threshold, like so many gates before,
Pushing myself into a world I yearned to taste, a
Quest which haunted me in my sleep, forcing me to
Reach, yell,
Scream to beg for
The thing that is life– true,
Unadulterated,
Vivid life.
What amazes me is that
Exactly what lies beyond the threshold is
Yelling, pleading for one more pound on the rigid door, but, like a
Zombie, I remain here, behind a door, not dead but not quite alive.