three smiling faces form an array,
they cast strange doubts.
voices carry through the heavy hinged door,
static builds a shocking sting.
there is no escape from this tower,
the words are too high to jump.
nothing can muffle the repetitive sound,
you are inevitably lost!
notations will be scratched out,
the old journal, a tomb of observations.
a nine-life cat jumps into view,
breathing… and gone just as soon.
you take in the day, carbon filtered…
three chairs line the far wall,
forms appear across the threshold
casting pleasantries as they pass.
the coffee is burnt bitter black,
it singes the back of your throat…
and here come the questions?
though you are long gone,
your voice?
but an echo…
just relax and melt away…
you are merely held up by strings,
frayed and thin to the breaking
perhaps there is ground out there?
or children of light playing in shadows?
in the resolve of despair,
you strike at the chords!
but the tangle grows over,
you are now lost from sight
you are deep in the forest
all alone…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/10/12
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