Permanence Of A Visitor Poem by ART _trashed

The Permanence of Visitors.

Fleeting feelings
Echoing voices
Faint faces
Every present second becoming a transparent
memory.

Memory's bending and bleeding into dreams,
staining the walls.
Bleeding into dreams that we only see when our eyes have no daylight.
Unconscious dreams.

Not the dreams of wonder…
although…
somehow…
this room holds both.

This room holds those transparent memories I spoke of before.
grasps them so tight to the point where they are faintly visible.
past visitors.
past paint.
Their past sounds and faces faintly visible.

ghosts

I have spoken before about the ghosts.
not the ghosts that haunt you
these are the whispers of the ghosts.
the whispers of past inhabitants,
ghosts of past inspiration,
past dreams…
…dreams of wonder
…dreams of memory.

their permanence more present then myself
for they have been there longer than me.

I am a visitor

I have no real permanence in this room.


The whispers I have painted and painted over,
written and scribbled onto the wall do.

Those are the whispers that become the walls memory.
Those are the whispers that stain.
Stain layer upon layer
Texture building

Textures that you can run your fingers across
reading the whispers.

Those whispers never ceasing to exist.
Their permanence painted into the walls.



That is the permanence of a visitor.