The Door

Published Works

The door is open.
Spirits race out into the dark.
They are escaping.
Re-inventing death.

I am one of the spirits.
I am one of the lost.
Escaping into the dark.

The door closes.
Slams shut
Now I am outside.
Lonely spirit lost.
Lonely voice screaming in anguish.

Horrors upon horrors.
Night upon black.

Hot wind sears thought.
I think but I am thoughtless.

Cavern of space
with empty eyes.
Sockets of disease proliferating
in jangled tones of sombre.

Grey moon.
Overshadowed undercurrents
of lisping lips.

Are they mine?

Are they mine?

I don't know how to love me.
Useless thinking wasted on
emotions that are shapeless reunions
of sliding weeds.

I am growing a skin.
It is bleeding.

The door is my answer.
Slam it shut.

Don't let the tears out.
They may define my state of mind.
But in truth,

they are shallow.

So am I.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Published in "The Record". Feb. 2010

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phil_carcione's picture

I love the thoughts that go

I love the thoughts that go through my mind when you say "re-inventing death".  Very nice.