the room that weeps

June 4, 2012
The room was an ocean of blue shades.
The walls where royal blue at one time
Now they have aged and their luster has decayed
The wall paper has begun to frill at the edges
The base of the paper has started to change
Now it turns a festering yellow stale at its core
The craftsmanship of the paint was elegant at one time
The strokes as even as the waves of the seas
Time corrupted this mighty ocean as the painter finesse wilted away
The paint has cracked and is chipping away as the beauty of the room falls to the floor
There sat two chairs, a table, and a cabinet with a TV mounted atop all rustic and wooden
These furnishings are what populated the room
The first chair was infected and infested
His legs have been crippled by parasites
His cushion inhabited by dust
This chair’s mate is dreary and unbalanced
One leg is shorter than the rest so she rocks back and forth as in a drunken stupor
Her cushion has been snapped at the seams its innards now join the dethroned paint
The table has rotted and the varnish has surrendered to infection
Mold now displaces the murky willow surface
The cabinet is deserted
Its caretakers have forgotten to feed the old man’s hinges
His opening now bears a deafening screech
And the TV is left to illuminate the room with its broken bellows
It has misplaced its channels and is reduced to a gray needled flicker
His gaze petrified and haunted as he castes his state across the room





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