Some days begin in darkness
Before carbon flares in light
Slow-wakening of illumination;
To reside between its flickers
Or exposed in spectral sight.
Pinned upon the table
Limbs wriggling in defence
No pity in your eyes
As you would have me frozen
Caught in webs of pretence.
In the absence of sincerity
I retreat into myself
Reality is sickening
Repelled from playing the role
Your voice has long compelled.
What is real anymore
What is soul or mask
Too long in careful artifice
My muteness is my answer;
I am too afraid to ask.
In silence there is power
When language is for few
That once held me by wires
In hands that weren’t my own
As if an object being moved.
Each moment ionised, ignited
Alone, life comes and goes
In voice and perishing soul
The impermanence of an arc-lamp
Fades to darkness from soft glow.
