The Upper Room

and no, im not afraid to die, im afraid to live and not remember why..

The Upper Room is where I go to die.

Where the air is heavy,

and rank with lies…I sink into my chair.

This is my lair,

where the mice grow fatter,

from this damp, growing matter.

I frequent them a visit by climbing my sinful ladder.

And for the smell…a lingering scent..

Like the foul odor seeping through an aging vent.

The Upper Room is where I go to die.

And though I try and try…

Im caught in the thought of regret

Of the very first time that we met. Just me…

And this room…which lives above my house.

 It’s painted blue; ocean blue

the chair is too,

My life isn’t living, cause the nothing I’m giving..

Forces me to this room,

where nothing exists.

The refusal to resist is proof of my content.

The Upper Room is where I go to die.

Feeling myself growing captive in its sky,

And the lack of belief comes like a thief

Taking all dignity…

Its me in this chair that I become aware

 of dreams past…

And how short they last.

My thoughts own me for I cannot see

in this place.

 And though the gift of life lay undisturbed,

wrapped neatly at the bolted door,

so many  gifts I’ve learned to ignore.

The Upper Room is where I go to die.

for there is no one to blame But I.

Reviews

[lamia]

this is a good piece , very powerful , good job !

[Colton Bose]

I absolutely love this piece. So powerful and beautifully written, good Mr. Kovitch. I can feel the emotion flooring like a torrent of wind of the page. Keep of the good work.