Huis Clos

I
Now the thunder strikes, now the lightning
And clouds waltz untamed
His quiet from drifts gaudily
His life still unclaimed.

His hair hangs limply in the stale air
His pupils, in constant motion
His fingers like stabbing knives
He smells of death and poison.

Now on a filthy mat he lies
His breath comes out in a groan
The last days dripping down
Death is not unknown.

Those shadows on the wall
Reeking of ancient scorn
Strange memories hang on nails
Plastic and paper he mourns.

Monstrous mirrors shine on him
Vulgar secrets lurk from behind
His wrinkled spirit flickers ahead
He lingers alone to the end.



II
The fantasies of the soul
Are lost in the mists of time
She looks back,
Searching beauty
Seeing only turmoil
A heart shattered, a mind wild
Eyes, made mild
Strangled memories haunt her now.

Eyes fading, life
Vanishing. Furrowed memories
Sleeping
Inside the ugly mouth.
The past laughs, mockingly
The future beckons, menacingly
The present rests, maliciously
There is no escape, cackle the dead.

Her egg shell heart, with its crack
Her soul, gaunt and hollow
The deep shadows beneath her eyes
Hands frail, quivering
Search for the cruel perpetrator
“Wake up!” they shriek to the world
Mere bitterness echoes
A grotesque silence.