The loud room, empty of everything

but the silent chatter of a million voices

all asking the same ridiculous

questions time and time again

I have come to understand as pointing blame,

apportioning censure, charge and guilt

my way because it is so much easier to

attribute condemnation to the man

who will only fight back when

someone he loves is in danger

but who will happily absorb any

bruising cut you snake out on his skin;

for the silent chatter that grows and fans out across the empty room

is but a prelude to the dark

when I switch off the lights…

 

…where I get asked the

solitary

question burning on the ghost’s like shimmering mouth,

drooling in anticipation at the answer, ready to pounce

upon my low-self esteemed response

as I try to back away;

the empty space beside me asks,

“When did I first know I was in the room?”

 

The loud empty room

is a far nicer experience to find yourself in

than the silent whispering that bends

and crushes your ear as it slams

your head sideways into crumbling

low-self esteem and panic buying shares

into a world you did not create

and yet to join the real world

surely you have to be just as insane

as I appear…

 

…to be.

If only I had the ability to blame others

but instead the silence

is only deafening

to me.

Ian D. Hall 2015