The White Palace Poem by Fab Ricciardi

Staggering through the narrow corridor
Holding the walls so they don’t collapse
I stumble my way into the tiled palace
Kneeling to my throne
Once again praying for the release
Of the evil poisons corroding my body.
I turn on and watch the cold-water…fall
From the tap, tap, tap
Gathering up enough strength and courage
Just to put my hands together
Trying to capture a pool of
SPLASH! To awaken and refresh my senses.
All the while a damned construction crew
Keeps drilling away at the pavement of my mind
A two ton wrecking ball rhythmically
Pounding the walls around my head
In musical unison with that damned crew
BOOM, DRILL, DRILL, BOOM, DRILL, DRILL
BOOM, DRILL, DRILL, BOOM, DRILL, DRILL
That water rush hits hard against the facial wall
Redefining my conscience if only for a while.
The flavoured toothpaste tastes rough
Almost chalky, coarse sandpaper
Scraping and deodorizing my inner
Beer and tequila-chasing orifice.
Slowly climbing
Above the cold pedestal bowl
Suddenly startled
Staring through the reflective window of reality.
In an amnesiacal state
Cannot clearly acknowledge
The person on the other side.
No introductions needed here
Walk away
No desire to shake hands with the devil.
Not just yet.