Tag: poet

It’s eleven after eleven again.
I looked and saw it all today.
There’s nothing on the other side
when all the walls are torn away.
There’s no one wants the furnishings
that splinter’d deeply, stand apart.
There’s no one in the room at all –
no such thing as a ghosten heart.
I’ve seen it all before, I know
in all its ashen good-for-naught;
a door so void of knocks, yet still
it’s fallen in. Who would’ve thought.
I’m standing in this dead debris.
I’ve seen it all, as I have said
but still I find I’m always here.
I do not go outside my head.