Dark Muse
05-06-2014, 01:00 AM
The White Room
I am abandoned in what must be purgatory,
suspended in time within all this starkness,
while those who drift by occasionally
are in charge of our fates, and what torments
we must endure before we can transcend.
I begin to write my memories
on these cold white walls with my own blood,
scraping my finger nails across the tiles,
I know when I am no longer here,
in one form or another,
it will all be cleansed away,
and for them I will have ceased in existence,
perhaps literally, perhaps only figuratively,
but this is not for their eyes, nor the others
who may find themselves seated here,
it satisfies only my own
need for the moment.
It looms before me,
bold, unapologiziing,
vague, this letter of F,
not of my own scribbling,
not for my own use,
but ugly and black,
loaded with so many meanings.
Feculent, fetid, fatigued,
flagitious, fescennine,
flilariasis, finite, fistula.
This list goes one endlessly,
and unforgivingly, ruthless,
remorseless, my only recourse
is to turn it around, rewrite it,
deny it, let it become something else.
I languish within my body,
but consciousness
is beyond all bonds it is not contained,
it cannot be vanquished because even when
eviscerated from the body
it remains out there somewhere
within the ether.
I am abandoned in what must be purgatory,
suspended in time within all this starkness,
while those who drift by occasionally
are in charge of our fates, and what torments
we must endure before we can transcend.
I begin to write my memories
on these cold white walls with my own blood,
scraping my finger nails across the tiles,
I know when I am no longer here,
in one form or another,
it will all be cleansed away,
and for them I will have ceased in existence,
perhaps literally, perhaps only figuratively,
but this is not for their eyes, nor the others
who may find themselves seated here,
it satisfies only my own
need for the moment.
It looms before me,
bold, unapologiziing,
vague, this letter of F,
not of my own scribbling,
not for my own use,
but ugly and black,
loaded with so many meanings.
Feculent, fetid, fatigued,
flagitious, fescennine,
flilariasis, finite, fistula.
This list goes one endlessly,
and unforgivingly, ruthless,
remorseless, my only recourse
is to turn it around, rewrite it,
deny it, let it become something else.
I languish within my body,
but consciousness
is beyond all bonds it is not contained,
it cannot be vanquished because even when
eviscerated from the body
it remains out there somewhere
within the ether.