Locked In Familiar


Locked In Familiar 

i’ve counted the fingernail lines;
at least a trillion times, as many as
the stars will shine,
into my blackened thoughts tonight,
there they blare,
chiseled marks on a wallpaper stained room,
though, it does blast spiraling galaxies,
a few?{probably more}through my dulled pupils –

fingernails chipped and frayed,
clutching hold a pale’ish gray;
once sky blue – bestowing white’ish
jagged little swirls; mocking,
day and night! they bloom across the room,
chattering away about what they see,
and laugh at fragile me

fingerprints coated onto its flesh,
rough and smooth; taunting leaves
scratching and gnawing; fingertip’s
grasp a similar silent friend,
we bleed into our staleness;
watch the day drift into night
waiting for the flicker of unnatural light;
settling into complacency

creaking floor ambushes,
each stride of bare feet,
attacked with splinters –
old and new,
eternity driven; familiarity
[is there something, awake?]
drowning in singularity?


angry rocking chair,
bobs back and forth
all day long,
cupping some invisible tormentor,
i count and count
every creak and crack
up and down
back and forth

as moon creeps –
silhouette of a Cheshire grin
upon my skin
creaking floor
and rocking chair
pound through my veins –
habitual heartbeat,
choking air fills my lungs,
i no longer breathe on my own


fresh breeze blares against my window,
cobweb covered eyes,
look in the distance;
crusted window seal –
a lonely room

i no longer remember how to smell;
or know the taste of sunlight stroking my tongue
all has vanished in this room,
under the fluorescent lights –
they hammer away at my mind,
flicker POP!
twisting shadows into strange forms,
walking across my creaking floor,
sitting in the agitating rocking chair,
while the door knocks and clicks
beckoning me for a walk outside,
keeping me trapped with its deadbolt!

fear taps and tings,
on the golden knob,
my fingernails dig deep,
old pasty wallpaper flesh,
shroud my feet,
cold frame upon my cheek –
pressed against the newly painted door,
ear listens, breeze strokes by
and whispers shriek,
clawed hand scrapes along the wall
throat gulps down a breath
moon lurks in
glaring over creaking floor,
and rocking chair

my friend, my friends
strangers vibrating my door,
fingernails grip to familiar,
while cheek, ear,
and closed eyes long to escape;
the known
cannot breathe on my own,
this room, this room
my tumultuous home


I missed the timeframe to link to dVerse with everyone else, but I was still inspired by the prompt so I am linking to the post and saying, “Thank you!” to Joe Hesch for spinning my thoughts.

This poem was a creation that started with my annoyance of the wallpaper in my dining room that I use as a schoolroom/office. The wallpaper drives me batty yet, I so love stroking the texture and rubbing my fingernails down it to hear an interesting scratching sound. 🙂 Much of my time is spent in this room and all of my collections, the windows that share the happenings outside, and the frustrating noises usually contribute in some way to what I write.

And yes, some days I feel as though this room has me locked away – trapped inside from the outside world, but it keeps me safe from the unknown. No worries, I burst out on occasion. 😉

About mindretrofit8

Sharing the twistings, and musings that twirl in my mind. Hoping others can relate, or at least enjoy... To know more about me personally you can visit my website at Mind Retrofit.
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