Room 1048

[billy]

Six paces down one wall, four paces down the next
Regular, conformed, white walls that used to cushion the blows ['that' feels redundant]
Until my rage bled from me in the splatters I left behind
Four pristine spots that never quite faded away…
['I' feels redundant,] can a spot be pristine if it's partially faded?

Regular, conformed, white walls that used to cushion the blows
As the ceiling vanished in a sea of twisted thoughts and free forms.
Keep your eyes down and your mind calm, nobody ever looks up into Hell;
There’s too much temptation written across the sky.

Until my rage bled from me in the splatters I left behind
I’d put patterns everywhere and proclaim my artistry
But it’s funny; here, nobody appreciates a genius
Unless the images are shocked into their minds.

Four pristine spots that never quite faded away…
All that’s left on the wall of your comfortable new home.
I give you something to focus on, something to count repeatedly
Four scarlet spots sitting on the wall, and the floor, and the wall, and the floor, and

Six paces down one wall, four paces down the next
I’m sure we’ve been here before, but dreams are wonderful ['but' feels redundant]
So I’d like to stay in this vivacity, keeping my eyes focused
On the four spots on my wall, never looking up into Hell.

reads almost like a pantoum, inspired by the kusack film of the same name as the poem.
for me it's like a visit of old memories. like an estate agent telling the history of the wall, of the spots and
how the got there. that somehow they connect to her.


a well crafted piece of poetry that flows well, a little dark with a taste of death
though for me, a more melancholy than dark write. thanks for the read Mrs Sin