deepundergroundpoetry.com

Invisible

Age hangs about like a river draped
in heavy fog. Thick, cloying, sometimes
pretty to look at but always with an
air of heaviness. Once I was an oasis
rising up from a desert wasteland. Now?
I�m a weary rock that hasn�t the energy
to move anymore.

A long time ago it wasn�t the case. There
was strength, vitality, a newness that
raced the rising tide. It seems there is
more ebb to the tide than rise these days.
This creaking frame danced with the
laughter of little children, the passion of
lovemaking, the drips of sadness, all with
the surges of life.

If I were able to move my shadow would
stay behind. Languishing in listlessness
while the shell of my former self
wandered transparent. There, yet still
unseen like a ghost that has recently
left the body. Here my foundations grip
the listening earth but I have little to
say now.

Expressionless black eyes now
stare out at an ever changing world.
I squint in the glare of the sun as
footsteps of the past echo down
lonely hallways. Mustiness hovers
about me as a stale fragrance
and I am still as a stone. The strong
smell of urine is my caress.

Sadness flakes off my fading walls
while I try to veil my hurt with a
gentle smile but the rain that runs
down my tattered roof are the tears
streaming down my cheeks. Cold
and damp are my companions
and they seep deep into my bones.

As the sun sets on another unfulfilled
day I cast my eyes downward and try
to radiate a serene dignity. But I fade
like a slow moving, silent midnight train.
Rhythms drift low and sad, unable to
fill the void in my heart.