The Writer's Forum
A place to read, publish and comment on both Fiction and Non-Fiction
UNTO WARD
on a night of drawn time
to lie there in a state of acute awareness
absorbing the snores and death rattles
and ever penultimate breaths
of the sick and slowly dying
broken only by their moans and pleas
to a god for help
to escape their torment
and the stench of shit and
functional nurses
for the peace and privacy
of a coffin
librium soaked and alcohol deprived
this mind splits to mock the reality without
like a mirror taunting
the left hand right hand wave
where the dim light plays tricks
on form and shape
as shadows shift and shuffle
to menace and grope and probe
a world more real than the given
programmed thou shalt interpretation
of who’s logic anyway
and my torrent of thoughts
rage and rampage
like beasts freed from the confining cages
of acceptable indifference
into the nth dimension
where truths blossom on thorny stems
and blood dipped fingers accuse and condemn
this journey taken of choice and purpose
with the audacity to question
the reason for an existence
and discover the unsavoury purpose
By Richie Mais
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