The Dormitory Room

I

My room is empty,                        

                             dark,                               

                                and vacuous.                                  

                                       Vacuous. 

Sometimes I swear                

                    I can hear the echoes                           

                                          of my own breathing,                           

                                          and tic-tocs emanating                           

                                          from my digital clock.  

And I swear, sometimes          

         I can hear,                     

                      in the stuffy air,                     

                      the sounds of molecules                                             

                                                           bumping,                                             

                                                           here and there,                     

                     one against the other,                     

                     And all against the walls                                                

                                                            of the room. 

And everywhere I can hear                                

                                              noise,                                

                                              and static,                                

                                              and tumult,                                    

                                                     tumult,                                            

                                                                  reverberating                                            

                                                                  through the gloom.  

And the voices          

          and the whispers,                            

                                of earlier residents,                            

                                still hang in the air,                                                    

                                                              I swear,                                                   

                                                              I swear... 

And an impending sense                              

                                        of doom.

II

My room is a coffin. 

My room is a grave.    

In it I lie  

               peacefully,                  

               but never at peace. 

There are too many shadows                                  

                                             here,                

                too many memories,                         

                                      and tears                                   

                                                     that I have released,                

               for peace to settle in,                

               for me to be                             

                                   at peace.