Closed doors and soundproof walls,
Yet darkness drowns these endless halls.
Flat on my bed, eyes trace the ceiling—
Does silence breathe, revealing meaning?

Silence should be the absence of sound,
But whispers swirl, echoing around.
Are phantoms lurking within these walls?
I race to the door—no soul in the halls.

I seek reprieve, a fragile peace,
Yet shadows mock; they never cease.
The remnants of ghosts choose to remain,
A torment etched in sorrow's refrain.

'Silence! ' I scream, through laughter, through tears.
Is this the mask of madness and fears?
'Who are you? Where do you hide? '
I beg for solace; none abide.

I rise to wander, fractured and blind,
Until I face the truth confined:
There is no other, no haunting kind—
Only the chaos within my mind.

The bourbon burns, its fire subsides,
Yet fails to drown what inside resides.
The whispers swell from faint to loud,
A tidal roar, a gathering crowd.

Their echoes rise, grotesque, unkind,
Blurring the edges of space and time.
Confusion spreads like vines that bind,
Tugging my soul, dismantling my mind.

The noose still hangs, a silent plea,
A relic of past attempts to be free.
Is this my sign to escape the fight,
To yield my place, dissolved through the night?

But even as despair takes hold,
A flicker of warmth, defiant and bold:
A memory stirs, its light entwined—
Perhaps the voice I hear is mine.

How beautiful can it be?
The chaos of oddyssey,
That I thought was a misery,
Turns out to end in serenity.
When It all started within me,
To where I thought I was free.

A silhouette inside me who brings bliss.
It whispered saying, "join me in the abyss."
What harm can it do, so I agree,
It's fun and beautiful, like a fantasy.
I wish this could not end,
"It won't" said the silhouette friend.
Suddenly, my reality, it's burning!
As if my life is decending.

Someone save me, please!
My reality is not at ease,
I'm stuck at this disease.
Help is what I seize,
Look, i'm down to my knees,
Begging to exceed.

Is my shadow talking to me?
He brings a monster so scary.
It attack and demanded,
My comfort and joy, I handed,
It smiled and stop, he finally fade.
Why such sacrifice must be made?
The monster left me in peace,
Giving me life that I please.

How beautiful can it be?
So this is what they call reality.
A journey that you must see,
Where you practice vulnerability.
Embracing your tranquility,
The true path of serenity.

The words burst forth like a broken dam,
Overwhelming, overflowing, unstoppable, they amass.
For so long they were restrained,
Restricted, constricted, told to remain.
But now they flow, unbound, unchained,
And I am at the mercy of their reign.

The power of feelings, the weight of their might,
Caught in the undertow, pulled into the fight.
Drowning, yet somehow I can finally breathe,
As if the words have stitched a wound beneath.
I feel more like me, freer than before,
The world sharper, clearer, an open door.

Hope glimmers softly, like dawn’s gentle light,
Breaking through the end of a long, gloomy night.

dined with companions,
who could not care less.
went along for the ride with half a heart,
i confess -
sung a word of praise, or two -
for it’s like a game of chess;
chose my words carefully,
not trying too hard to impress.

i could not keep their company for long -
would not keep lying still - it was wrong;
gave up their lives, in a moment of truth -
raked my soul, all winterlong.  

kissed goodbye to the daylight, i -
gave it up for a different kind of nightlife;
believed - solitude was an inmate,
with a hidden jackknife;
turns out - solitary confinement
is but an oxymoron of life.

I have certainly had more than enough time to consider my existence.
In spite of men who have praised me for my talents, that I did not rear,
I was still unable to look within.

Inquiries of my arrival here
rage in my tears
blood covered, yet, my screech is joy to their ears
my umbilical cord
it tethers me
still, I have been casted forth from my mother
the sun that shines brightly in the sky above is transfixed in its position until the moon gradually confiscates its earthly spot.
I learned to crawl at first.
Many moons pass, then, steps I would begin to take
I stumbled to win the race

wait.

If I fail, then still, I rose to save face.
An adolescent, but, still, I am determined to win this race
I am driven
stepping into my teenage years beyond the pace of my peers
foolish, a youthful mistake that I have failed to comprehend as I stand in the aftermath

wait.

Cycle of life
I emerge from the aftermath as an adult acknowledging my pain
standing up once again
preparation for another knock down
I am still driven
Yet, and now, I am driving pon dark roads.
Distressing are my most dramatic thoughts
I come to rest upon devised dreams

wait.

Dreams deferred drag the time of my reality
I am elderly
I am tethered
tethered, somewhat, to my descendants
newer life
though, it is that familiar cycle -
my family.

Considering my existence
I have looked within.
Now, peering externally, I am able to behold versions of me.
My eyes, their eyes,
their noses, my nose
they have become, currently, the unforgotten reflections of me
those precious angels of mine.

I behold them and smile when I consider this existence of mine.

there’s a great divide -
between the anatomy of my brain,
and the fluidity of my mind;
i struggle to make the crossover,
for i must advance in phases
in between their flimsy makeovers:
in, and out -
then back in again.
the brain is humbled by its own mortality;
the mind boasts of an eternal life;
both petrified by rancid thoughts
of yesterday -
and the day before that -
and the month before that -
and the years before…

as i regress -
slowly, and infinitely -
i long for my natal mind,
and a tougher cranium.

a fistful of wishes
is all i have:
if i let go, i’m afraid
they’ll wither away,
like dandelion petals
on the back of a rescue dog;
if i hold on too long,
I’m afraid -
they’ll crumble -
like my illusions of being.

the fist gets tighter;
and i’m still waiting -
for the punchline.

i can feel the weight,
on my tongue -
of a heart so heavy,
and a mind so young;
i cannot say -
why i went this way;
i do not know, how to
get off the causeway:

on one end, there’re facts;
though verified, and true -
on the other end, lie feelings,
i never really knew -
i had buried so deep,
i failed to see them through;
the facts - do not change,
but the feelings - they do.

i promised not to rely too much
on one way, or the other;
now i’m stuck, biding my time,
reflecting on shallow waters:
i look, long and hard, and see -
the feelings start to resurface;
but in fact, i see -
a herring’s carcass - floating -
so still, and perfect.

a shadow streaks across my face -
i brace myself for, just in case -
i feel it looming - heinously close;
in fact, it’s an eagle;
i step aside - clear the way:  
the eagle tucks its wings
for a nosedive;
it wants the herring -
dead or alive:
it takes what it wants,
leaves nothing behind -
neither facts, nor feelings;
only ripples of lies.