Dancing through your empty rooms
Latent voices echo the chorus
Good intentions beat me like a drum
A fool for the alluring style you faked
Maybe I wished to fly along you
These rooms were not always empty
Window dressing and dusty couches
Tapestries covering holes in the walls
The desire to full the spaces too great
Still dancing around empty rooms
Sometimes ashes wish for warmth
Hope lives as the stranger among us
My feet long to stroll that pathway
Desolation is peace and serenity
Hardly compromised, mistaken for believed
Belief is participation award to acceptance
True welcome is leaving the masks behind
Wings are to soar not be clipped by your hands
I live to hear how your world never changes
It was never your world, but we don’t tell you
I’ve tasted the desert of your soul before
The cure for the human condition is nature
The ills are not oxygen to breath, but baggage
Throttling the horizon causes darkness
Sunsets are supposed to celebrate what was
The fire dances to heights and gives warmth
Instinctively it knows no riddles to live
Which is why ashes wish for warmth
Why some see the world as desolate
This week’s photo prompt is provided by H.R.R. Gorman. Thank you H.R.R.!
“Do not let Brutus in the bathroom.” I stumble through the words. Remembering how slow and clearly Alicia spoke then to me. “Do not let Brutus in the bathroom.”
The stringy feline rubs against my leg. He cries as he runs a figure eight around me. Apparently he wants me to admire his labor of love. I’m trying to think of where to start cleaning it all up. Toilet paper strewn under the sheets just adds to the expertise of this animal.
“Brutus! What did you do? She’ll kill me for this!” I pull my hair back with my palm. I wonder how to cover it all up.
He looks up at me and meows. His right paw slightly lifted as if to point out the crime scene.
“Delirium, you simple haven take up residence upon Elysian fields.” Hyacinth snorts in her insidious way. “Please gather those jaded mercurial excuses of yours.”
My eyes pick at her anthracite and wisteria soul. Her mask worn tightly is that of a quixotic pariah. My body language reduced to a transparent silhoute. Inside my kaleidoscope of emotions challenge my lucidity. I long to lash out in ciphers, the remnants of past fractures. The zenith of my fury is a sigh and yawn.
Still her vicious basilisk eyes pierce my spirit. Her residual boredom plays a requiem upon her xylophone of unkept threats.
“You are horribly jaded.” Her hips snap her elsewhere, placing me back to the ossuary of her world.
*one word from each letter, at least