Strange Whispers. Poem by Andrew Nawroski

Sometimes Whispering
I hear voices
Not normal voices
I see them whispering
When I lay down
A clicking finger sound
Travels around me
Then loud whispers say
Time to wash all meadow’s
One eye is dilated
Staring at my wall
I blink and see more whispers

There are 3,042 hairs
On my left hand
I count them every night
With my dilated eye
And fall to sleep
Waking I hear more whispers
Gentle soft whispers
Coming from corners or walls
They follow me about
Then stop whispering
I can’t find them
But they soon come

I hear them in a city
Coming from windows or doors
As I hear them
They grow in size
Whistling me over
Beckoning like virgin prostitutes

In deep resonant country
They come and follow me
From field corners
Or fallen tree’s
As I listen they seem stronger
And sometimes I see them
Making colour shapes
They shoot forward
Silently through my body
Then start whispering

I try to hear words when they begin
But there are many
All jumbled up
Occasionally I make out some words
Short sentences louder
And they hurt my ears
I want to tell someone
But find I cannot
Maybe I’m insane.