Lately, I've been feeling...well, less sad, though not exactly happy...so I give you this poem (and the accompanying Video from youtube)
Afterhours
Well past the final breath of the bell, hallways forlorn,
When shifting shadows trickle in
From every entrance, establishing
Their domain, light flees, all but
The dogged rays emanating from
The rooms of the dedicated,
It is through these solemn halls I meander,
Aimlessly, the dark welcoming,
Honoring me as a frequent, welcome guest,
Honoring me with their presence,
Caressing my skin,
I wander, no longer alone,
Waltzing with my host, out of courtesy,
To the lonely piano and violins of a solitary man,
Each step, another sliver of arrowshaft driven into my heart,
Bleeding passion, for blood,
Seeing naught but a dim hallway,
But witnessing judgments cast upon me
By mute shadows
Looking on as I dance slowly, gracefully
With one of their own,
Caressing each other’s skin,
Holding each other close,
Her soft flesh against mine,
Hearing nothing but the silent cries of existence,
But listening to our private symphony,
As well as the gentle, unsaid laughter of my hosts,
Laughing and chatting amongst themselves,
Celebrating their temporary conquests,
Each struck snowy key, each bowed brass string, syncopating my steps,
Each note slowly weaving my hangman’s noose,
Each note, magnifying the seductive smile of my partner,
I playfully resisting her advances,
She, taking it in good fun,
Knowing, she will have me someday
Well past the final breath of the bell, hallways forlorn,
When shifting shadows trickle in
From every entrance, establishing
Their domain, light flees, all but
The dogged rays emanating from
The rooms of the dedicated,
It is through these solemn halls I meander,
Aimlessly, the dark welcoming,
Honoring me as a frequent, welcome guest,
Honoring me with their presence,
Caressing my skin,
I wander, no longer alone,
Waltzing with my host, out of courtesy,
To the lonely piano and violins of a solitary man,
Each step, another sliver of arrowshaft driven into my heart,
Bleeding passion, for blood,
Seeing naught but a dim hallway,
But witnessing judgments cast upon me
By mute shadows
Looking on as I dance slowly, gracefully
With one of their own,
Caressing each other’s skin,
Holding each other close,
Her soft flesh against mine,
Hearing nothing but the silent cries of existence,
But listening to our private symphony,
As well as the gentle, unsaid laughter of my hosts,
Laughing and chatting amongst themselves,
Celebrating their temporary conquests,
Each struck snowy key, each bowed brass string, syncopating my steps,
Each note slowly weaving my hangman’s noose,
Each note, magnifying the seductive smile of my partner,
I playfully resisting her advances,
She, taking it in good fun,
Knowing, she will have me someday
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