Cemetery of My Past
Granite columns surround me,
in solemn rows, like stone soldiers,
forever silenced.
Barely discernable as a blanket
a blanket of fog hangs in the air
and hugs the ground.
Deep beneath the earth
lay hundreds of decaying corpses.
And I step around them cautiously,
so as not to wake them,
wake them from their eternal slumber.
Not cautious enough,
the still silence is pierced by a cry.
It erupts from my throat
as I fall through glass.
And when I finally hit the ground,
a muffled thud.
High walls of mud and clay
all around me, closing in on me.
No way to escape, I have fallen,
fallen into my own crypt,
Where I have tossed and buried so much.
And I too, will be just a memory,
tossed among others.
Cold, but somehow hot;
there, but somehow not.
Viewing everything as from afar
On a black-and-white television screen.
-Onus