it hints, it extrapolates, it meanders,

it sings, it is a song of disturbance

that pricks the spine, the heart understands

fear of nightmare proportion – whose chambers

are filled with tortured souls yearning;

of normal days taken to be mundane,

mundane is pleasure, is an offering, is an epitome,

try not to envision hope whose mask is torn off;

therein lies guilt, suffering, pain, poverty, love spurned,

debilitating illness, an accident, a paranormal encounter with a demon,

fear is a dancer, moves flawlessly in the moonlight,

a waltz with an mind being led – and a grip, a tightening of screws,

no keys can unlock this door, slammed shut!

then the joy, the happiness, the euphoria, the accomplishments

erode, turn to dust, your name forgotten forever, then spitted upon,

a bedridden old man no longer able to move;

try harder the demon whispers: it gets more interesting.

then the hammers slam, the judges have made their verdict,

crucify him, who, him, who is him?

taunts, mockeries, take away that noble spirit, “shame, shame“

the crowd chanted;

and it was just a bystander being dragged across the streets,

it cannot be happening again,

the charges? and the piles of evidence are rained upon;

like zeus all angry like for turning away from the gods,

but the conclusion is already made, defense please step down.

silence

a quiet vibe, no hair raising spectacle, just a cold numbness

with a world that lusted gone amok.

it’s stale, it’s banal, it’s no longer what keeps the spirits hungry,

hunger is good –

the machinery runs on hunger, till even the apple has rotten so

very much, decomposed, filth apparent

the onlookers found no thrill in going uphill again.

what’s in it for me?

silence

when words whispered gets taken out of context,

another door gets locked;

another soul seeing only the mundane world like

a peach – rotten apple stirs hunger from this end point;

it’s all about perspective,

the slimy, sludge, the excrement slowly drowning away

lucidity.

what’s life?

and it was one shell still painted carefully while

customers continued to pay to visit – this moment;

it was all gossip, all news, all play, all fun, all entertainment

beneath eyes, a soul twitched; stayed still, died.

green grass grew all about, flowers bloomed,

but no one could bring back the damned.

too late –

then the key was inserted, the sound of a click,

a door opens.

what is life?

then recognition came about, a twitch, a heartbeat;

the shell collapsed and astonished audience demanded

their money back;

this isn’t entertainment they cried out

when the script went offline.

a demon whispers, a soul retorts: i am immortal

just like you;

and moved about, no longer led, free will

means biting back,

the spectators became still; the swirling emotions, the mind

boggling thoughts, the uncanny experiences slipped,

like a mask that falls off –

painted dots on a shell

with life stirring from inside, drinking from within

at food, water, fruits only a soul could understand.

the eyes mirrored forth brought no understanding

as the customers only angst

was a script poorly written, a show banal,

and shame, guilt, blame, verdicts registered not.

what’s life? and the answer became obvious

when crystals finally hardened, souls manifested,

and a shell was just a shell.