THE EMPTY ROOM
Chipped and hacked, cold chisels cut and shape my facade,
Inflamed old scars unhealed, drunk on lifes past rejections,
Eyes glazed majolica brown, deep lines eyes sunken dead,
The mirror twisted smiles at my foolish masked deception.
Eternity waits behind the hanging, stripped naked, pine door,
The sap from knots bleeding after decades of slow decline,
The scent of Man's last wishes lingers in the unseasoned air,
This room lives briefly and dies in dreams I've seen before.
The still dam breached again as memories forgotten flood,
Rising above sunken eyes, visions, broken spirits of abled dead,
Numbness awaits the final act while the devil barters for my soul,
Above a shadow of hooded silence welcomes my curdled blood.
A last unashamed glance at my bruises and battered lived in face,
No more to breathe or feign a life of perfect imperfection,
As deaths door swings open and life beckons me no more,
Watching in despair, freedom from a window fly with Nature's grace.
Soaring bluebirds in spring return as I prepare for my unbiased tomb,
Shuffled feet and thoughts guided voiceless to the opening trap door,
Black cotton stenched in fear placed across my swollen eyes,
Time hangs by a rope, until snapped, waiting below the empty room .
Copyright ©
Daniel Caplin
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