Descent Poem by Joseph Martin III

Empy bed

empty rooms

hollow chambers

long shadows cast

by a knowing moon

in this barbarous night.



Where stirred whispers

soft as love's first glance,

now only echoes

of slamming doors

and rustling thoughts

like wind through dead leaves

of what will never be.



One more picture to hang

one more face to remember

in a gallery of lost desire

there is room for no more.



I am so sorry boys and girls

I can't come out to play.

The devil is sitting inside my head

wanting me to play with more lethal toys.



Time to rest.

Let my final escape

be a party with bright lights

and a siren's scream.



10/8/2006