Voices- In-The-Attic Poem by Gengis Capote

It was there at the stroke of midnight.
I found my mind lost in depth of thought,
digging a solitary grave deep within me.

Obscurities shadow watched down from the tower
trembling tenacity with great fear,
I could not bring my self to see what was inside.

Taunting voices in distorted crescendo.
consume every particle of light,
It was then I knew for sure!

There were..(Voices-In-The-Attic)

Entities from which to draw sustenance,
An array of sleepy living knowledge,

Our willing unity open the door,
releasing my mind from its prison,
finally awakening from my coma