Outside

This is a poem comprised entirely in prose.

     The clock stared at me; its pale face scowling in my direction, its arms frozen in time. Moonlight crept beside my curtains and illuminated the side of the room on which the clock hung. The closet door stood open, alert, and waiting. My window called to me, begged for my presence, and to the window I went. My feet felt safe on the soft, yellow carpet beneath my bed, but as I made my way to the window, ominous shapes of irascible creatures leered at me, and distrustful objects and electronics snickered in hushed whispers at their plots.

     I ventured towards the window; it seemed as though I’d been roving for an eternity by the time I arrived. The clock continued to stare its evil stare as I stood in front of the window, and its ravenously sour intent spiked the hairs on my neck. Time’s relentless refusal to relinquish its mighty grip on my throat, whereby it strung me up, helplessly frozen in the echoes of the night, made my ears go cold and my lips quiver.  I pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, exposing my body to the tempestuous woes of the outside world.

     The air rushed onto my face and made my lips dry-up and my eyes flicker. The sky rang its bell, propositioning me. How dare it request me; a travel to the sky would’ve been the end of me, though the b*****d believed me too ignorant to know this. I replied back to the heathenous realm, attacked it with the thunderous boom of my voice, which resonated from deep within my chest, “You cannot tempt me with your illustrious blues and your vibrant oranges you vile thing! The sanctity of isolation within my chambers shelters me from your bilious ways, and I know of the manner by which you’ll attempt to seduce me, but my will is strong, so give up now you demon-sky!” I slammed the window shut and sunk back into my room, not bothering to close the curtains.

 

Author's Note

Criticize, criticize, criticize!

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

I like how this doesn't conform to expected rhyme schemes and stanzas. I find myself trapped within them almost every time I write so this set-up must feel freeing. I'm not sure if the italics are on purpose or if it's something that happened in the copy/paste process (since it seems the right side is cut off a bit somehow) but I'd be interested to know the meaning behind it if it is on purpose. Perhaps to signal the reader to pay attention to those lines in particular? I love the imagery. Especially of the sky ringing it's bell and the evil looming clock. Nice job!

[Arthour Lewis]

The italics were on purpose yes. I italicized those lines to sort of emphasize the more emotional content of those lines: those are the speaker's raw feelings, and didn't notice the cutoff: that's due to my margins on word. Thanks for the review!