Asylum
...read by the author, David Philip Ireland
Asylum © David Philip Ireland
The bleached walls unread
are an asylum of sightless eyes
a morgue for the undead
the comatised
graffiti arrows directionalise
pointing their gaze at the artless skim
as if of all places
art has no place here
at all
no music plays in this brilliant hall
no decibels vibrate the air
just the sobbing of the jailor
who holds your life at bay
the murderous taint of invisible liquor
clouds the mind
and steels the spine
and what’s left of the resolve
resolutions are transient
the power of will
weak insignificance
where decisions falter at hurdles as yet unimagined
survival is the only option
About the Creator
David Philip Ireland
David Philip Ireland was born in Cheltenham in 1949
David has published work in music, novels and poetry.
To discover David’s back catalogue, visit: linktr.ee/davidirelandmusic
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I AM
This is not who I thought I would be. Before my family was captured and forced into slavery, I had aspirations of becoming a wealthy business owner or possibly a scholar and philosopher. Becoming a warrior was the furthest thing from my mind. Unfortunately, our Roman conquerors had other plans.
By Mark Gagnonabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
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