The elevator doors open softly
on the litany of the last journey.
Elisa invokes the cabalistic shape
canibalizing her soul ...
She runs down the stairs
where the shape awaits her .
She runs up the stairs
where the shape awaits here.
The elevator doors close softly
death turns it on the lam
fatal hotel California ...
Elisa takes her bag of exploded polarity,
thoughts decayed into millions of atoms
flowing along the taps, spice of memory ,
Elisa taste in the mystery of space ...
The shape having a beer in the fridge,
settles down on its couch, watching
a special destiny program ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 11th, 2023 09:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments3
Brilliant work.
An insoluble cold case ...
"the truth is out there" ?
Your poem is impressive!
Sometime I feel like a literary necrophiliac...
I think I see Elisa battling mental illness. Her bag of exploded polarity, the mood swings in which she is held captive by the cabalistic shape that canabalizes her mind and from which she cannot escape. To her it is real. I may have it all wrong, but I love it. Powerful write dear poet.
Her destiny had a link with a place full of madness.
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