AngelGadiel
Eternal Poster
The passage echoes to empty breathing.
Some little sound, that should not be named aloud;
The walls are bent in, skinny and grey.
As those sorrowful men who wear a shroud.
The mirror retains a second face--
It blinks a beat behind my own,
As if it knows a truer shape
Under the skin and beneath the bone.
Each step is aching in the floorboards,
Their speech is as splintered, sharp, and low.
They have learn-by-heart the weight of things.
We try so hard not to let show.
A starless sky is in the window,
No silver mercy, no disguise,
Infinite ink which gulpeth on the world.
And leaves it dry behind my eyes.
My shady side sticks too near to-night,
It is higher than my own stature,
It swears the words I never utter.
And responds when I am called upon.
And the early morning weakly dawns,
It shall not run the dark away--
There are nights that do not come to the break of light.
They only learn how to appear like day.
Some little sound, that should not be named aloud;
The walls are bent in, skinny and grey.
As those sorrowful men who wear a shroud.
The mirror retains a second face--
It blinks a beat behind my own,
As if it knows a truer shape
Under the skin and beneath the bone.
Each step is aching in the floorboards,
Their speech is as splintered, sharp, and low.
They have learn-by-heart the weight of things.
We try so hard not to let show.
A starless sky is in the window,
No silver mercy, no disguise,
Infinite ink which gulpeth on the world.
And leaves it dry behind my eyes.
My shady side sticks too near to-night,
It is higher than my own stature,
It swears the words I never utter.
And responds when I am called upon.
And the early morning weakly dawns,
It shall not run the dark away--
There are nights that do not come to the break of light.
They only learn how to appear like day.