02-22-2011, 03:34 PM
Props to Billy and Jack who helped me create this. I'll revise it one more time, and then I'm putting it away for two months. Have at it!
I do not trust my bedroom floor
At night, to keep its helpful form.
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate as night evolves,
And shadows loiter shopping malls,
And when the strands of streetlights sign
The sidewalks with moronic lines
Of milky haze; I watch the face
Of wood beneath my bed replace
Its boards with void, which arches up
And paints the walls with cobalt dust.
The ceiling zooms beyond my view,
The windows shut themselves, and soon-
I am alone.
This is a special loneliness-
No rosary or crucifix
Fearfully clutched against my chest
Will make it easier to rest.
I look at where the clock is hung.
It’s like some taunting, ticking sun
Radiating seconds slowly.
I watch night crawl like slime above me
Dawn comes like a lazy savior
Weakly waving rust-stained banners.
Irritated, the void retreats;
The floor returns. Some nights, I sleep
Through this. That, I most dislike.
I wake, my room is warm with light.
The windows grin, no longer closed
The floor stares from its ordered rows-
The azure wallpaper, the clock-
My nick-knacks in their proper spots.
Outside, a sun-drenched cloud goes by-
It’s all a sick and specious lie.
PREVIOUS VERSION
(Sorry Jack, I accidentally deleted the last one :/. I still used most of your advice.)
I do not trust my bedroom floor
At night, to keep its helpful form.
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate as night evolves
And shadows loiter shopping malls
And when the strands of streetlights sign
My sidewalk with moronic lines
Of milky haze; I watch the face
Of wood beneath my bed replace
Its boards with black, its nails with void
And any structure be destroyed.
The ceiling, zooming out of view
The windows shut themselves, and soon
I am alone.
This is a special loneliness-
Picture a shack in the wilderness
One small, unfurnished moon-lit den
Doors missing, ivy creeping in,
And you inside. Nearby, a book
Its cover titled, “DO NOT LOOK”;
Curious, you lift a corner
Nothing! You turn the cover over
And scan its pages, each one blank-
You reach the end; written in black
Is your name, and the following words-
“And that is what your life is worth”
I do not trust my bedroom floor
At night, to keep its helpful form.
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate as night evolves,
And shadows loiter shopping malls,
And when the strands of streetlights sign
The sidewalks with moronic lines
Of milky haze; I watch the face
Of wood beneath my bed replace
Its boards with void, which arches up
And paints the walls with cobalt dust.
The ceiling zooms beyond my view,
The windows shut themselves, and soon-
I am alone.
This is a special loneliness-
No rosary or crucifix
Fearfully clutched against my chest
Will make it easier to rest.
I look at where the clock is hung.
It’s like some taunting, ticking sun
Radiating seconds slowly.
I watch night crawl like slime above me
Dawn comes like a lazy savior
Weakly waving rust-stained banners.
Irritated, the void retreats;
The floor returns. Some nights, I sleep
Through this. That, I most dislike.
I wake, my room is warm with light.
The windows grin, no longer closed
The floor stares from its ordered rows-
The azure wallpaper, the clock-
My nick-knacks in their proper spots.
Outside, a sun-drenched cloud goes by-
It’s all a sick and specious lie.
PREVIOUS VERSION
(Sorry Jack, I accidentally deleted the last one :/. I still used most of your advice.)
I do not trust my bedroom floor
At night, to keep its helpful form.
Its bowing boards, its croaking planks,
The nails that bind its rigid ranks
Must dissipate as night evolves
And shadows loiter shopping malls
And when the strands of streetlights sign
My sidewalk with moronic lines
Of milky haze; I watch the face
Of wood beneath my bed replace
Its boards with black, its nails with void
And any structure be destroyed.
The ceiling, zooming out of view
The windows shut themselves, and soon
I am alone.
This is a special loneliness-
Picture a shack in the wilderness
One small, unfurnished moon-lit den
Doors missing, ivy creeping in,
And you inside. Nearby, a book
Its cover titled, “DO NOT LOOK”;
Curious, you lift a corner
Nothing! You turn the cover over
And scan its pages, each one blank-
You reach the end; written in black
Is your name, and the following words-
“And that is what your life is worth”
