Now you’re here,
Tho far too soon
You’re gone,
Leaving no reason
To the surrounds,
Save suggest year
Had but one season
Rather unclear,
Seen fulltime grey
With baleful demons,
No longer able
Kept at bay,
And so fate chose
You disappear,
To not extend
You suffer appear,
Another morrow’s day!
An endless sound
Of hissing resounds,
Persistently,
In ones weary skull…
Perverse echoes
Find to devise
In a mind resigned,
The means to survive
A state that confounds,
One forced to listen
Beyond humane bounds,
Said tinnitus to suffer
In its hell bent surrounds!
Emptiness surrounds
The weary,
Thus be found
Wearing the face
Found in ill-fated place,
Loosing time’s race
As emptiness presses,
On hapless people,
Whose matter brims empty!
Poetry on a canapé 