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The Empty Corridor of My Mind

From the collection, Stumbling Into Shadows © 2002

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I am more than anesthetized by the cold face of life —
These glassy eyes fixate their stare upon nothing at all.

.

Languidly, almost too distant now to hear, there is a memory
Of a heartbeat that once revived me and urged me on.

.

Its beating, growing ever more slow and faint,
I can hear echoing down the corridors of my mind.

.

And I am left to wonder, “Was my heart ever real at all?
Or is this one of many painful games the mind does play?”

.

I am dead inside, so long numbed by loss and desertion.
There is nothing inside but the shadow of emptiness.

.

It dances and moves, flitting here and there,
Terrorizing me with its cold presence,

.

It calls to me with a voice more piercing
Than the hollowness of the howling wind.

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What can I do to abate this stark certainty?
Whose hand is there to hold on to?

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Where should I turn, if I could move,
To feel again the innocent warmth of love?

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“It is gone, gone, gone,” says the nothingness.
It simply never was at all,

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Just a yearning figment of imagination
Too afraid of the cold black truth

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That everything is ultimately nothing,
Trying against futility to make something real at last.

.

The kind footsteps I think I hear
Approaching from down the corridor

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Are but the sound of my heart breaking
And the love of my life slowly dripping out.

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The kindling anticipation of a soft touch
Keeps me poised with longing and desire –

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Waiting, waiting … day after day,
Week after week, for absolutely nothing at all.

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And I scream from the depths of my soul
Caught in this numbing mire of emptiness.

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As all my dreams and emotions
At last come pouring out,

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Devoured by their own lack of invention,
Consumed in the blackness all around.

.

Like a flame deprived of air they falter,
dim, and extinguish themselves forever.

.

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