I could hear footsteps,
Opening my eyes to a cold breeze,
Men and Women with covered faces,
Stood in place,
I found myself surrounded.
In unison they pushed me,
Along a white walled corridor,
I laid back comfortably,
On a wheel driven bed.
Without a word they looked onward,
No eye contact,
Just silence.
I could hear the wheels of the bed,
Landing occasionally,
On the separated tiling,
Etched on the floor.
Without even noticing it,
I was at my destination,
And my bed was slowly moved,
Into the center of the room.
A protagonist space,
For one so quickly dismissed.
The following moments,
Every covered face seemed busy,
Looking at its surroundings,
Picking up, moving equipment.
Unbeknownst to me,
The stage was set,
For yet,
Another story.
This time for me,
To be the rightful protagonist.
One no one else could be,
I already sat at the throne,
The boy first ignored was now,
Put on display for all to see.
Within moments,
I would come to realize,
My next step,
A pure event of extasy,
Synesthesia,
In all its raw splendor would ensue,
As life traveled elsewhere briefly,
At the behest of science,
In hopes of divine,
Blissful health.
The ceremony was about to begin,
And with eyes wide opened,
I witnessed,
The arrival of the crown,
In the gloved hands of a mask it laid,
Slowly lowered,
As it was put over my face,
"Long live the king!"
I could hear the words of many,
"Long live the king!"
They all cheered,
As my eyes became blurry,
Sounds slowly turned into echo,
Rippling into existence,
Morphing endlessly.
Almost as if computerized,
Fabricated echoed sounded,
Again and again,
...And again... and again...
Until dusk.
The king disappeared briefly,
Only to find himself awake at the throne,
Without his crown,
But with his growing health.
YOU ARE READING
Abroad
PoetryThe purpose of this poetry book is one of defiance. Not to others, or anything in particular. It is against the war we wage internally, against ourselves every day. There is no bigger challenge in life than facing your thoughts, your true emotions...
