Unspoken

He wonders through the darkened corridors
that lay for so long hidden in the corners of
his mind. Hauntingly, the whispers come,
decreeing that reality is dead and gone away.

There is too much sorrow hanging in the air
these days for him to yet deny that feel of
overwhelming mourning that extends itself
into the many moods that he'd believed he
could keep separated from himself.

Eerily, the echoes bring a loss of his
enchanted attitudes. Reality has entered
into him, and he is helpless to retain
that long held spell. The memories
that he conceived as real are melting
faster than the ice and snow within the
glow of springtime sun.

Fading into an unaltered distance; leaving
him to face it all alone and unsupported by
the known of intellectual attitudes. Here the
rushing tides of great emotion came to
sweep him off his feet; his strength no
more than just a grain of sand that
helplessly is dragged along by mighty
waves.

Bouncing off the walls, his many
well constructed halls are crumbling,
crushed beneath the mighty weight
of time. All that he once knew about
himself was being altered in a rush
that moved too far beyond his small
control. While beneath the waves,
a hush assaulted all his unknown
sensitivities.

The structures of the world in which
he used to live were gone. Mighty
towers, built in those obscenely buoyant
flares of greed and fame were turning
into tortured, twisted rubble in his brain.
Forced abstention never satisfied his
great desire, and now those fires burned
out of control. Illusions bent on pleasure
spent themselves into absurdity. Even
these could not conceal the feel of shame
he hid so deep within.

Excuses mouthed in platitudes no
longer served to cover over all the
pain he'd caused the many others
he had shared this mania with. He
needed them - but now his family
and friends had turned into no more
than aliens, off on yet another
spending spree at his expense.

Is that all that his life had come to
mean to them? How had the love
that they once shared, turned into
this greed for all those many things -
and nothing more than that?
He closed his eyes, but even
there inside, he could no longer
find a guiding vision.

Sirens sang to him from beyond the
edge, beckoning for him to come
and play. The inky dark of that
abysmal pit had turned to gray.
Images began to rise and fall
within its maw, teasingly appeasing
his great feel of loneliness.

This time the strength to fight them
was not there. A lost and lonely
sigh escaped his lips just as he
glided into garrish emptiness,
guilded by the many needs he'd
always left unspoken...

? Michaelette ?

12/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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