this emptiness, this space in which
no light enters, no light leaves
living in darkness, while any sound
will echo for eternity;

the waves coming back upon themselves,
an infinite loop of feedback
reciting louder and louder every
missed oppprtunity,
every mistake, every situation
that could have gone one way
but instead traveled another path;
first as a whisper, then a shout
that lives with the darkness,
never getting out;
and the dissonance is deafening
the condition is frightening;
and the walls,
being far too close to one another
bred a caustic kind of claustrophobia;

if someone would have
tried to pry the lock, or break through the walls
or told him that he didn't have to live in that space
and that tomorrow doesn't have to be exactly like today


maybe, it wouldn't have made a difference, but
maybe today would have happened-
but the walls were built
too thick, an intentional prison
a comforting madness that kept him company
when there was little else to do so;
and when it came to be that he
could no longer count on his trappings,
he escaped the only way he could;

and the tiny room, still echoing with
the caterwaul of his regrets
and the persistent darkness
has vanished.

in it's place,
a grave marked with two dates
that are far too close to one another.

05/15/2010

Posted on 05/16/2010
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams