Thursday

He is never alone, and I understand.

As I sit across from him,
He sits inside his head.
I cannot always reach him.
Sometimes, he is dead.

Sometimes, he is present.
He will smile, he will talk.
He will say his head is empty,
but I know that it is not.

To him he is consorted
by another than myself.
They talk to him, and tell him things.
They ring in him as knells.

Oblivious to understand
experience we share,
I think he thinks I’m common,
and assumes my head is clear.

And as I lock the door
So that he cannot escape,
I walk away and wonder;
One day I may find that fate.

  1. I love the ending! 🙂 Great write!

    Like

    Reply

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