Madman's Box

Nothing here is yours
And it doesn’t belong to you  

These walls heard and saw
The one that inhabited here
Foreigner that claimed this room
Long monologues, speeches of sanity in decline
Satiric deliriums, stammering fantasies that faded there
These doors listened and spied
Through the hole in the narrow lock
Invisible presence that secretly witnessed everything
Nocturnal shadows, occulted dark eyes of somebody that were elsewhere
Floating breezes, howled gelid screams as if somebody were there
These windows whispered and stalked
Over that solitary that lived there
Trees camouflaged in the darkness of the night
Rooted creatures, twisting themselves to the wind of centuries
Impertinent crosses, static before the tempest of feelings

That room, decadent as the soul of the temporary inhabitant
Was a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up
Black flames climbed over the pale walls
As if it was a surreal painting about an unreal world
But they were part of a real world in that demented mind
Photographs of faces that now were unknown
Deck of cards that awaited some fate
Books aged by time with missing dates
Furniture filled with remembrances that memory can’t recall
Shelves covered with tapes that held no recordings

In this cell which he was free
But forever trapped
Were a past unknown
Lied incognito the identity
Amnesic, knowing nothing, nor possessing anything
The sands of time were long gone
To never come back
And all the belongings, to another they belong now
Because everything was given to him, but he lost it all
All that remained were the doubt of existence
As thin as air
As empty as ashes