Whispers

Sometimes mulling in this half awake dream of mine I can see the end of tomorrow.

Sometimes when the rattling in my head

begins to resemble the chaotic pulse tremors of a thousand drums

I cower to the safety of my desires.

There is a faint smile

that begins to take form around the mouth

when my thoughts meander to a certain craving of mine.

Want becomes a thing of its own.

A breathing, derelict entity sweeping over me.

And then I sit on the edge of my bed

with her voice in my ear

and I fall prey to my own weaknesses.

I am not what I remember myself to be

and it's a pleasant journey I take

from the forgotten to the memories in progress,

and now what I have

is hope again.

I am a beast again.

In glee again.

Doomed now

to never be less than.

Once again,

I am man again.

Tomorrow hums melodiously, and my weeping may never cease,

but my heart is warmer than it has been in a day

equal to that of a decade debauched.

Reviews

[free2bee]

Beautifully written, wonderfully evocative of the moment. Thanks for writing