I feel your presence: it is crawling
I am desperate to get away
So, like a creepy-crawly creature
I sneak out into the bathroom
It’s a refuge, a shelter:
Once there I look into the mirror
It has been smashed into tiny constellations
Myriads of disjointed voids
Frozen in a macabre dance
When did she have the time to break the thing?
I think
I ask myself
There are no reflections
Just pitch dark hollowness behind the broken glass.
I pray for disappearance, not for salvation
I can’t escape with you being around
You should be long dead, so tell me
Why are you still here?
I speak to no one in particular as I stare into the empty space
And feel your bony tiny hand descend upon my shoulder
And feel your putrescent breath
It envelopes me, surrounds me, sucks me in
I scream and turn around
No one’s here
I make the leap
The door is locked!
That’s when I hear your voice:
“Hon, where are you going?”
Tag: soul
Is Someone There
Irrevocable persuasion of decay
Carnal putrescence is convincing
A temporal reminder of transience
In which we float toward the gate
Of the perfectly Unspeakable
From whence no one leaves
As dead leaves unceremoniously fall
Each fall on the unkempt alleyways of
Long abandoned park of our memory
And the neglected soul that’s been consigned
To dwell in a doghouse on the outskirts
Of this filthy squalid reservation
Howls in the thunderous silence
But haggard cynic bitch just holds her nose
And asks (in fact, she barks)
If she can just move in?
Since the doghouse is really vacant
It is long empty
And no one howls or begs for help:
Since there is no soul
Since there’s never been a soul
Roobit's Poetry Burrow 