Monday, 2 December 2013

"Throbbing" by Corey Tibbs.

Throbbing, aching, no strength left, 
at the point of breaking, this pain forsakes me.
Flat, I lay, my consciousness it slowly slips, seeps away.  
Murmurs, hushed, their tones unerring, messages of bleak despair.
Still I lay, my mind not there,
it has deserted me, trapped, a slow decay.
Encircled, these figures, silhouetted, faces which have washed away.
Faceless, these people, a world away.
And still I lay, my heart, my mind, my life astray.
Engulfed by the blinding lights the figures fade, this light,
this light, has it come to guide me away, content to go, and still I lay.
I plummet, the light swept away, falling,
hopeless, sinking and still,
I lay. spiraling, darkness creeping in embracing me,
a beeping, beeping, beeping,
slowly but surely fleeting as the darkness penetrates my soul,
this rasping breath, a tear,
a muffled scream, then silence, darkness... nothing more.
Alone and still I lay, this room, a sombre shade of grey,
so clearly different, yet strangely, the same.
So alien, so different, this room in a way,
wanting to run but my fear drifts away.
And still, on the floor of this strange room, I lay.

Nothing, no windows, no doors,
the silhouetted figures stood over me no more,
just these expressionless faces etched into each wall.
A sound, breathing, a whisper swirling like air,
a single phrase, several letters just lingering there.
These words evaporating, as if never there, and the room,
again it feel silent, as it had just been.
The faces they faded, and the room now the same,
except the lingering whisper, which echoed, my name.
Silent, I lay, a thought on my lips,
but unable to say.
And in this room, alone,
I would stay.
And still through it all with my fate all but sealed, no weapon,
no thought and no hope I could wield.

As again my mind distant,
my thoughts in a vice and my spirit torn away,
I lay, I lay, and I lay.
But suddenly, the walls start to change,
as they shift, and they crack, my fear kept at bay,
as there in the centre, rigid I lay.

Distorting, these walls,
before me they blur, and by some force
 to me unbeknownst like paper, they’re torn.
The mist it grows thick like haze before dawn.
Slowly, softly, the darkness, returned.
Beep, beep, beep, alone once again through this darkness
 I surged, in this whirlwind of chaos I feel like I’m a  bird,
 though my wings are of paper,
which is shredded and burned.

And again I’m thrust into this blinding light my
wings now drifting, my body a kite.
This rasping breathing, this pain subsides.
My heart, mind and body as one they re-surge
and above me from these all consuming shadows, these faces emerge.
From this life, almost torn,
A phoenix from the ashes now reborn.

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