Ghost Town

A Poem by Ibrahim

Crisis of faith averted by destroying it.

1
A crescendo of chaotic customs feed my inner carnivore.
Drawing me ever closer to the cornucopia of uniformity.
I resist; stop myself from scratching the itch.
My catharsis would be a turn for the worse.

2
But not today.
The deafening outcry of the disdained souls is not there.
The silence creeps in, tremulously, afraid of its sudden power.
I hug myself in the felicity of my solitude.

3
I can finally see.
The myriad of masses have deserted their pretence;
No dexterity, no polite indifference, no meaning:
Only the fragile hands of my temptress leading me astray.
Solitude is unbecoming.

4
My soul suffers in the silence.
All my masks cascade down my face,
My eternal wisdom the last to go.
I am faceless now, a speck of dust yearning for recognition.
It's getting dark, too dark to see.

5
I cry out into the abyss.
My Silence is affronted at this blasphemy.
Like a serpent it sweeps up and slithers away,
My solitude trailing in its wake.
I am truly alone now.

6
Help me, now! Give meaning to my mundane existence.
Perhaps, divine intervention? The ethos of my life is shaken.
I weep in the sin of desire. Fill me now!
With all the pretense and decorum which,
Would make me a nonsensical nonentity. I want to belong.

7
The transformation is now complete.
My soul is no longer mine.
I think I left it at the terminal while,
Boarding the bus away
From Ghost Town.