Posts Tagged ‘empty’

I listen to music with the lights off.

It’s like being asleep,

like lucid dreaming–

aware of the sounds,

but only the sounds, the notes.

I close my eyes

and the music fills me up.

My ears are what hear it;

my heart is what feels it, and pumps

the feeling that is more than just one feeling

throughout my body

and my head is empty,

devoid of probing thoughts,

but quickly filled

with music

and feeling.

Where once was sighing-

the great cave opening

to a three-quarter moon;

white stalactites and stalagmites

shaped like gravestones;

a pink worm

pressed to the cave floor,

hiding its red underbelly;

air escaping in a hollow hiss-


the dark round emptiness of

it remains, and

the cave walls are close

but not touching,

and there is

no movement.

Voice setting with the sun,

plunged into violet darkness-

this, the realm of twilight,

smells as crisp and empty as tap water.

Wind roars, it ripped what sounds I could make

from me. It over powers me-

sharp and ever-present as a carving knife.

I struggle to produce

even the slightest whisper, but

even the sound of my breath is extinguished

by rushing noise as I stand

on this hill, overlooking the shadowy twilight sky.

I have nowhere to go,

the wind assaults me in battering gusts

from every angle.

I stand like a scarecrow on this brown hilltop.

My throat is tired– burning and twinging,

yielding nothing.

I hang my head in defeat.

Dirty brown clouds have hidden the stars.


this is what it’s like

to be incomplete.

I sit in a corner,

wedged between bricks.

I revel in nostalgic moments

of applause, lights,

all for reading words written by somebody else.

The words I wrote

struck people silent–

I was preaching to a room of statues.

Back then my legs were trembling

from anxiety.

At least then

I was feeling something.


I am a garden slug,

tired of the luxury

of remaining hidden

between two slabs of stone.

Is it my silence which has trapped me

in this objective state?

If I were brilliant,

would things be different?

If I were to stand and talk

would there be listeners? or

would I be rejected

for saying too much.

Then, would the corner

(that vampiric cavern)

be a comfort

to patch the hole

reopened in me?