Tinker Tailor

I cannot be here any more

Where the shadows can think,

Think, and wait for you

To become one of them.

All day – I have been walking with my back against the wall

Already waiting for the curtain to fall

For this show to begin

Or to end – all the same

Differing only in the perspective you call

Your own. For here the days are lit

By sickly pale moonlight

The yellow glares of the street lamps,

They run on volatile gasoline.

Here, the drum roll of your own heart

Hammering, from inside your ears

Is the sole source of music.

Ghoulish, the wind adds his own tunes

Screeching through windowpanes,

Howling through alleys,

Wailing in door frames,

Lamenting the vaults.

The dripping, like leaking faucets,

Randomly rhythmic, sporadically melodic,

The source – I cannot tell,

The shivering humidity accumulating on surfaces

Falling, splashing on to sleek cobbly stones

Maybe – or tears of someone else, hiding.

Someone else stalling,

Waiting to be counted out,

To be counted in,

To become one of them.

Everything – covered in ink.

Velvet puffs of somnolent pipers’ exhaust

Uprise, grey cotton it sinks

Or so it may seem to the resting leather wings.

The tower bells echo

In cobble stone alleys

Ringing, reverting – Stone to blackened Stone

In the cracks they hold on

For a rest

The next bell hushes it onward again.

Eternal moonlight on a sleepless dead town.

Perpetual midnight under forsaken stratosphere.

I sidle the charcoal streets

Almost a shadow myself

Like a cat on swiftly paws

I sneak – no one shall see me

Even if anyone tried.

Yet, shadows they creep – haunting

Counselling sub rosa,

Whispering, stealing, lurking – hunting.

There is no way out

Of this nocturnal labyrinth,

No place to go,

No place to stay.

So we keep moving,

Through this endless labyrinth,

Through the place where the shadows

Are you, me and – them.

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4 thoughts on “Tinker Tailor

  1. “Think and become one of them”. Absolutely fantastic thought. With poetry it is hard to describe “Feel” without sounding a little hokey at times but for me knowing that shadows can draw you in to their thinking is brilliant.

    1. Thank you, as always, for your great input. This is one of many playings with sensations of claustrophobia, paranoia, death, and darkness/light. This (somewhat censored) version turned out to be a lot less dark and morbid than it felt writing, luckily i think, I’m still trying to keep it relatively light here : )

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