Haunts

When I am Old

I hurl my secrets

against my bedroom

bathroom kitchen walls

and watch them bleed

and dream and hunt and

sleep there--

they live

apart from

me apart from

this in a place

that speaks

with a foreign

tounge--

it's no wonder

I cling to them

they are the only

means of travel

I have--

when I am too old

for this

I will look at my

walls and wonder

if it was all worth

it, sigh into my

thin blue hair

attempt to scrape the

gold from the plaster

where the dreams hit long ago

Reviews

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great perspective on the choices we make in life. the paths we choose seem so natural at the time, but upon further inspection in the waning years they may not. when thinking about the conclusion, i get a sort of CSI investigation of the walls; black lights, plastic baggies and crime scene deduction. imagery and tone are perfect. great job!

[R J Askew]

I like it...life is strange the things we do and the feelings we have. We are highly inefficient and have no idea what we are doing most of the time. But then does any living creature? Is intelligence a curse?

[Salvatore Buttaci]

My friend, this is the best poem I've read this month!

Sal

[Rachel DeHart]

Wow. I love the turn of the tone for this poem. It amazes me.
Wonderful.
:]