PERSONAL HELL

The thumping noise

echoes in the empty hallway.

Bouncing around the house like

a dispersed thought

travelling at the speed of light.

It is the sound of your briefcase

as it falls from your weary,

practiced hands to the

ground.

Circles,

going around and around and around.

Dizzily; they can't stop.

The colour of the bags under

your eyes.

Tea bags.

Littering the kitchen counter like

feathers storming

San Marco.

Pigeons.

The beloved paintings of the

birds that stare down like

demons from hell.

Screams.

Of the damned that

weep like broken angels.

The baby.

It sits on the floor where it fell.

Finally, the world is silent,

piercing you with loneliness.

The Aesir have bestowed you,

cursed you,

with a soundless moment.

You grab your head,

grasp it.

Your brain trying frantically

to chisel its way out.

Headache.

Heartache.

You watch the doorknob

...turning...turning...

No.

It is still.

Wrong, Loki is having fun today.

Face it – he taunts you -

she stopped coming home months ago.

Wailing.

The baby again.

Your temples throb like

the fires of hades.

A tear slips down your cheek.

Lucifer laughs.

---

About a man living through what his wife didn't want to.

15/12/09