The carpet is soft against my bare feet,
red-black and yellow in its gentle heat.
Chandeliers sway above, portraits adorn the walls
and long drawn-out corridors make me feel small.
Windows remain closed, indestructible,
framing nothing but black, so I grow feeble.
I'm the only one in this glamorous prison...
The only soul wandering this lonesome place.
My hands tighten into fists; sharp nails,
biting into my flesh just to awaken my feelings.
Am I awake, or am I simply dreaming?
The pain won't wake me, even if I'm sleeping...
Doorway after doorway, wary of this place,
and still hunting for a way to escape.
It feels like someone is here, I can hear something.
Faintly, it's carried in the cool air, and I wonder if I'm dying.
As I grow closer, I realise it's music
and straining to hear, I feel no urgency or panic.
I have no idea where I am, no sense of what was.
Yet I feel no fear, no breathlessness, as though lifeless.
For some reason... I'm not scared, just simply lost.
In this house of grandeur I seek one thing the most.
Moving towards the music, searching slowly,
I hope to quell my mind's turmoil, and find my purpose...
I reach some double doors, punctuating the corridor
and now the music's so loud, it's hard to ignore.
Niggling at the back of my mind, burrowing in gently;
a warm resonance fills me as I open the doors readily.
Stepping inside the cavernous room, each inch carpeted,
I see no furniture, no people, just instruments absent of their masters.
The air is cold, the emptiness so strange it's wrong.
Slowly, I move to the instruments... Who'd played the song?
I have the compulsion to play something...
Knowing someone had been here, singing.
Guitar, drums, microphone... An old dusty piano.
The thick dust feels so cold, like snow...
My fingers, skim the keys as I move to the seat.
They draw dust like boots do Winter sleet.
And as I push them to full depth, in an elegant flourish,
dust rises, dances in the air, moving as though in a trance.
The sound is loud but gentle as it resonates so easily,
combining with my humming harmony...
I've broken the silence once more,
"what am I to do in this hall?"
And my darting fingers, moving tongue
"How do I escape from this purgatory so long?"
Are my only plea for help...
"Must I help myself?"
Momentarily, I lose myself in the melody.
Caught up in my mind, I forget my body.
I feel sadly about something, but I can't say what.
As though I'd suffered tragedy and can't recall it.
Again I'm lost, though more than before
and the notes my fingers spew work me like claws.
And as quickly as my harmony began, it ends...
I listen closely to the silence; gentle beeps bend reality.
Is that a heart beat monitor?
Someone explores their mind whilst they remain unconscious in a coma. This poem is about being lost in ones mind and feeling isolated as a result. With no memory, and no understanding of what's going on, it seems like a rather interesting but distressing experience. I wanted to capture what it would be like in this poem. I don't think it's quite perfect though...