It’s there

He prays for the crack in the ceiling, to betray the crack in the sky
An ever-present maw agape; its mockery salient, its derision sinister
Hidden, but from suspicion, and the winding, wicked words he mumbles
It’s there

He prays for the stain on the ceiling, to allay the pain of the lie
Split across time and azure; a panopticon, judging and cursing
Thunderous guffaws from the lofty coffin, eager to gnash and swallow
It’s there

He prays for the light on the ceiling, to away keep the night from his eye
His sweat pours in torrents, as the chill of its needles pierce his skin
Darkness approaches, and it hides in the shadows of contempt and vengeance
It’s there

He prays for the whole of the ceiling, to obey and then never ask why
Swept away from the nightmare by halluciations whispering calm
Forgetting to know, that when comes morning, like every other before
It’s there

art: by Zao Wou-Ki

Advertisement