the room

I

last night,

my room, darkly, spoke to me.
i was in my bed, unsleeping but unfree.

it said various things, of both present and past,
i was not ready, wanted to silence it fast.

the room did not comply to my wish,
and continued to speak in freakish.

or so it was to me at first,
because i was alone with my shameful thirst.

yet, as the words of the room poured on me,
my thirst was quenched involuntarily.

the room reminded me my forgotten vanity,
which, i'd thought till then, was my defeated enemy.

II

it said,

who are you to ignore its magnitude?
your sojourn was just a short interlude.

it is the reason of your furious heart beats,
your unquenched thirst, your clenched fists

it led to your destruction countless times,
left you to decay in the devil’s morbid swamps.

mark my words, and mark them well,
or else, i will soon be your hell.

vanity is your macabre enemy,
never to be defeated for eternity.

III

at length,

the room ceased its delivery,
and i was allowed to lay broodily.

yet, its unwavering sentries were still there;
my curtains, engulfing me in a caring sphere.

they were watching and looking after me,
and i was deliriously happy...



...until a hand wakened me suddenly.

27/11/2006