The walls have eyes(and lips)...
The walls have eyes(and lips),
they are so intimately attached
to the energy we hatch
inside our egg shell shocked existence...
Bring your stretched out
grin,
your unrecorded glee
that shakes the pinnacles
of the highest peaks of happy
before it plunges headlong into darkness...
All your sadness, and your blackness
filling up a cup without a bottom...
We are all of us a perpetual Autumn
from time to time...
It will come to this,
and the walls will feel it, and save it, and claim it for their very own...
This is the very definition and parapsychology of spectral forms...
A ghost is conjured out of the storm of our routine...
And when I see you in the bathroom,
reflected in my mirror...
The walls will speak and we won't hear, unless they speak the dead, drying tongue of the sacrificed...
Speak to us, O walls, and set our sights back into present time!...
It is too bleak, and vacant
to live only for the future dealings
of the battered soul
of man...
©
7/28/21
Bunny Villaire