The Room Without Design

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

She was encapsulated in the reverie, engraved

In each subtle stich, belonging to the beauty

Of this forgotten room, at the end of a hollow hall,

She has been here, keeping these walls in an elegance

Which has never been seen before, yet, it exists,

Far beyond the utterance, alone and deprived,

Holds its wallpaper, hugged tight, a full room

Within an overpopulated house, so many visitors

But non, have wandered, down to this room,

A small loose thread, suddenly appears to her,

Far in the high corner, a thick web has grown

Corrupting the room, as tears in the wallpaper

Start to emerge, as she knocks on the walls

Begging for anyone, to notice, to find her deserted,

As the room continues to loose its vibrance, it sheds

All that she designed, the tears getting deeper,

Until she becomes empty, lost in a dirty empty room,

No longer, does the room have a desire to hold,

No longer, does it keep up appearances,

The decor, decays to dust, leaving the barren walls,

The design was perfect, although, she was fragile,

Being shoved, further into away from being seen,

She fell into a drowning existence,

Only to escape from the room, on her own again,

One day, she’ll have another room to design.

Left for the Day

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

The world seems to be mocking me through

This double pane fog, covered by my immobility,

Festering in the inching frost, climbing up my throat,

Drying out, the secreting whisper of warmth,

The sounds emitted by dancing winds, pushing

A blurred island, hosted, by a decaying vampire,

Stretch marks of the swinging pendulum, swoops

A top my brow, cranking closer, as my attention

Bleeds into the veil, softly bouncing

Along the splinter of sanity, so captivating and graceful,

Will she return, as she slipped out through the opening,

The loud hum, of the empty room grows,

Filling my ears, as if I was drowning, gasping

For her, where did she go?

And the outside knows, yet they keep hushed,

As she swings in it’s hammock, keeping her still,

Where did she go?

I lay awake, starring at the flashing light,

Begging the silence to stop, for an echo in my bones,

Where did she go?

Thick strands of her gleam, snuffed out, by the dark,

She’s vanished beyond the stale breath,

Maybe she’ll return with the sun.

Who am I?

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

Don’t let a year of imperfections crush you,
It has only just begun, so you, destroy the year,
Stand brave against the wind, and inspire
Your own self growth, but don’t call it a resolution,
Be the person you want to be, the one you hide
From judgment and fear, urging to be seen,
The one you may not have even known,
Discover the pain of expansion, while you create
From your inspiring Muse, perched upon your shoulder,
Ask yourself, who am I?