Wherefore

"Wherefore" Its in the darkness when it comes to visit, slithering its whispers around the night sounds, prowling among the black on the fringes of sight. The tiny hum of street lamps from outside reaches my ears as I sit and listen and wait to hear the whispers again. My eyes hang heavy deep inside my head painted with round dark rings. I can no longer see in this darkness. I'm bathed in it. It has washed all over me. The dreary midnight breeze from my opened window glides past my face and with it hanging on the edges of its air, the whispers come. I sit calmly and without worry staring forward from my heavy chair, arms hung over and head hung forward and eyes ahead. Nothing moves inside this night nothing except the spattered beauty of dripping red lines. Slowly painting a trail of absolution rolling downward unto the floor. The whispers talk amongst the shadows inside the room and outside among the trees beyond my window the glowing eyes peer in to look in at me. There's nothing for me. All I have left is this wall of defiant beauty and the body that painted it for me.

-Armando Torres