The Twenty Year Fortress is Heavy Today

on May 29, 2013 in Poetry

The twenty year fortress is heavy today
the wastepaper walls and typewriter halls
have shrunk to lay upon me
and stick like the threads of spiders.

It cannot be lifted,
but is never so oppressive than when I am tired

The footprints of my younger self
are etched upon the floors
just as all my fingerprints
are carved upon the doors

My shadow’s stained the sidewalk
the streetlights know my name
and should I go a dying
that memory I’d remain

Can I bring myself to crawl from out beneath the tower?
The tower is heavier than usual today.

The doors are neither locked
nor the windows barred
but on the heaviest of days
the future seldom reaches beyond the yard

Am I to ever haunt this place
though all my friends are gone
from Marius’ empty table
a chair for me to sit upon

The fortress it is aging
and dragging me along
to make that weight the heavier
shades of darkness, greyer dawns

How can you pick your feet up
When there’s nowhere for them to land
Silence, broken futures,
and a weight that’s far to grand

Push, Push, Push
If an Everprince I’d be
Before the falling tower
Finally buries me

But how can I abandon
What will lately fall behind?

What if any of the fortresses foundation am I?
And dare I seek to learn.

I am tired, today is heavy
It is time I put it down.

Leave a Reply