The Wake

A man covered
Shadows for sheets
And little rays that pierce the protection
Pillows of hope
They reek of flowers, feminine
Stiff with the mortis
All seems to be alive
Yet there are no beats
His skin is warm
His face is wet
All outside is booming and thumping
The incandescent lights shine
Door creaks closed quietly
No one comes to him here
Not one bothers to break this illusion
As a picture reel runs over memories
The Flowers permeate
Inducers of emotions
That glow violently in his mind
This room, his room
A mecca for all that’s gone
All the relics lay scattered around
Visual stimulation
Stubs and papers, Poems and pictures
Remind him
Music plays softly
He can hear it in the background
The songs of his faith
He is in love
He knows this now
She is nothing
But he is always there to jump
He is always there to run
Manipulate everything
To make the world hers
And now this is only place she lives
In comfort alone, under cover
With pain to release her
And water to ease her
Fermented drinks to cease her
Like the one I sip now
To write horribly
With this tainted mind
I shut the door and press play
Its time to remember
Its time to pray