I am buried deep within the swells of this home
The windows black out the sound
I nurture bundles of regret in my arms, a well nourished baby...
It yells, while the roses blossom without pedals
If I don't let the light in, mirrors can't reflect...
...denial is like a pair of eyes, eyelids close but the pupils stay open...
I am buried deep within the swells of this home
Don't let the right one in and I can befriend the tapestries painted in my misery...
No voice but my own to inspire the madness that swallows me whole...
Here I occupy space, a resurgence of apathy; a diluted attempt for stability where foundations are weak...
I think I got colder, dead versions of me litter the room
Cannibal misfortunes, mental paralysis, the victims are me - the killer...
...I feel his face when I reach up for mine...
The windows black out sound, but inside...it's loud, with mirrors that can't see, and a killer who needs no introduction...
He will not let me reach for the doorknob, a repression of movement
An admission of fault...
...I gave him the keys to my home, and now my home is a baseless shackle...
No chain, no rope, paralysis, merely bounded by fear...
And here he and I will stay, watching the second coat of black paint dry over the windows once again...
About the Creator
Patrick Santiago
Writing because I'm too poor to make movies. Working to change that!
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Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
You've got some powerful stuff going on here. I know I really like a poem if I find myself echoing a line aloud as I'm reading. I found myself doing this 3-4 times with yours. Your use of imagery is hauntingly fantastic. Keep writing. I look forward to reading more of your creations.