photo by Ilkka Porttikivi


It has been a yellow room,

Since i last saw it aflame
in sleep,

There were strangers beneath the sheets
As abondoned in a corner was a wrap of arms not known

Everyday i woke withdrawn from calm,
the roof collapsed on me
and i saw myself digging into black sand

Dark figures stood by the door
the shadows of which were framed and on the walls
My breath being all that i heard of myself
i shouted at the walls,so i could talk back

There was a window,i had never visited near
until the day a strange blackness
started to settle over the trees,
the sky rumbled and with it squeaked
a little boy in the yard below

He had never seen me,
His calm prevented from me the desire to join
his fancy,I shook with fear
It began to snow and his bald head turned white
Like an echo from within my void
spilled out words never spoken to me

"You will get cold down there,
Lest the clouds have other places to visit
would you like to watch the snowstorm from my window"

He looked up..without a mouth to speak
or a nose to breathe from where hell was cut into
as around me the snow now fell,
I had fallen off the window
at his feet,where i sniffed the last of my cold blood
The yellow room aglow,
despite another shadow to roam the walls