The Dormitory Room


I


My room is empty,                       
                             dark,                             
                                and vacuous.                                 
                                       Vacuous. 
Sometimes I swear               
                    I can hear the echoes                          
                                          of my own breathing,                          
                                          and tic-tocs emanating                          
                                          from my digital clock.  

And I swear, sometimes         
         I can hear,                    
                      in the stuffy air,                    
                      the sounds of molecules                                             
                                                           bumping,                                            
                                                           here and there,                    
                     one against the other,                    
                     And all against the walls                                               
                                                            of the room. 
And everywhere I can hear                               
                                              noise,                               
                                              and static,                               
                                              and tumult,                                    
                                                     tumult,                                           
                                                                  reverberating                                           
                                                                  through the gloom.  
And the voices         
          and the whispers,                           
                                of earlier residents,                           
                                still hang in the air,                                                  
                                                              I swear,                                                  
                                                              I swear... 
And an impending sense                            
                                        of doom.


II


My room is a coffin. 
My room is a grave.    
In it I lie  
               peacefully,                  
               but never at peace. 
There are too many shadows                                 
                                             here,               
                too many memories,                        
                                      and tears                                  
                                                     that I have released,               
               for peace to settle in,               
               for me to be                             

                                   at peace.