Whimper, holler, weep; and let burn
your eyes and turn blood-red. You sob
at night alone inside your room....
There's no moon. It's long departed
to watch the lovers nuzzle, kiss,
by sonorous curves of Fraser.
Breeze on their skin: a glacier soon
melting, like their whispers—lover
to lover, lips to ticklish ears.
You must feel the solitude's weight:
The haughty air, the empty chair...
Listen! The walls are crumbling, hushed,
akin to bones that bound the heart.
Rotting bones inside the concrete,
marrows of room within a room.
Sound of your labored panting breath,
the only sign that here resides,
a living corpse inside this tomb.
Let your shoulders shake and quiver.
Holding your breath you shiver—There
you hope to keep the throbbing walled
(Oh the illusion of control!)
Loneliness aches; and aching's so
lonely. Ache that keeps you closely
dead-awake, and clings to your soul;
ache and journeys through your body‒
but you it never ever leaves.
Release your breath, forgive your sin,
ease the form, undress the ego,
clear the walls without and within—
to and from your heart. Let tears
cleanse you of old and vicious pains,
polish your senses‒scent of bread,
taste of coffee, comfort of bed‒
Let cry, this self, I softly pled:
I'm drowning in your tears—unshed.
