Voices

Well this is it, he said to an empty room filled with voices
The television with its hollow booming voice filling the room as it did day and night
It was company for a man who never had any anymore
And the quieter but more insistent voices in his head that whispered and laughed what he should do
From his dim past to this day he had heard those voices
As they urged him ever on
One day this way and the next another with no reason or rhyme
To just spend his money on whims
Since it had been on a whim that day that he came by it and kept it coming in
And now finally this day came with its first real instructions
The first day with any real meaning to it
Something that he could wrap his hands around and act on decisively
He rose from the chair by the window and went to shower and shave
For to be seen like this on this day would be wrong plain and simple
He brushed his teeth and combed his short hair
And looked in the mirror at his silvered reflection
It was the same and old face but shining as though brightened from within
The voices seemed to push him on to act
He turned off the television and listened to be sure
But the voices in his head now seemed to have gone silent after their commands
He looked around the room, rented and hardly cared about but cleaned and tidy
He made sure he hadn’t forgotten his letters as he packed up his things
And went to his desk finally to take his pills, the last things of his left in the room
But he was unsure without the reassurance of the voices in his head
Now afraid he sat on the bed and waited for those old friends and enemies to speak to him again
And finally heard them say, do it
Though it might have been his own voice speaking
It was enough
He took his pills and looked around the room
From the generic art to the sparkling bathroom recently refitted it said hotel
He wondered who would stay here next
And where they would be from and go
Since nobody came here to stay
They came here to move on