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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358284" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Life In The Land Of The Dead</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I live in the land of the dead.<br>Upon this path I have taken my walk alone.<br>My feet would hit the ground with hard and steady steps.<br>I hear cymbals crashing and the tuneful rhythm of the beating of drums.<br>I have lost myself along the way.<br>A lost and crying soul I am, <br>Living in a sea of shattered tranquility, <br>Only a shadow, I have silently slipped away through<br>An open crack in the back door of this place, <br>This place where the carpet is chartreuse and urine stained, <br>The stench of perspiration reeks here in this room, and<br>Tiled walls are sallow and filthy-<br>I sit upon this chair, its upholstery sadly torn, <br>Foam rubber poking out of every hole-<br>Old men, zombie like, overmedicated pace up and down the room and<br>A pasty –faced young woman, wrists bandaged-both of them…<br>I can hear the piano playing out of tune in the solarium.<br>My ears are crying out for some peace and some silence-<br>“Listen, listen, ” I whisper hoarsely – a cry for help-<br>I am a captive in my own world, as I<br>Climb cumulus clouds in my worm-infested brain, <br>Cotton filled meninges…<br>The Italian woman screams and bellows, <br>Locked in seclusion -<br>They took me into that room last night, <br>Kicking and screaming- it is her turn now to suffer.<br>The bitter taste of liquid Thorazine lingers upon my tongue –<br>Masked by the saccharine-sweet taste of the glaze on the<br>Doughnut I was fed for breakfast-<br>Cow troughs of them, a young girl bitterly weeping, <br>A middle-aged African woman, dazed, crochets <br>A pair of green slippers- so it appears-<br>This is the land of the dead, <br>I am living in the land of the dead.<br>I do not eat. I wish to harm myself.<br>Playing cards and broken chessmen strewn all over the floor.<br>Scratched records screeching on the phonograph-<br>I can hear them now.<br>I hear voices, non-gendered, they want me to die.<br>No one else hears them- so I am locked in this place.<br>This is the land of t he dead.<br>I am living in the land of the dead. Crap-chewing monsters, <br>Everywhere I look, but at the clock-<br>It is only one PM-<br>Bells keep chiming, as that decrepit ping-pong ball rallies on-<br>I stuff torn sheets of notebook paper hopelessly in my ears, <br>Trying to muffle the sound, so I can sleep? <br>I cannot sleep. not in this place-<br>The land of the dead, <br>This is the place they brought me to.<br>No one goes to heaven anymore.<br>This place is lower than the hell beneath my feet.<br>Beat the drums slowly, very slowly.<br>My time has come.<br>Everybody dies.<br>My sprit once young and alive has perished in this place-<br>Dead, dead, dead, a concept so bittersweet, <br>I keep walking my solitary walk, <br>Up and down then up again-and<br>Down the yellowed linoleum floors, <br>Thud, thud, and beat the drums slowly-<br>The gates to hell have opened to let me in.<br>I sink into the land of eternal fire, <br>Urine stained and dark as the fear that has wrought my<br>Dissolving soul, <br>Doomed to be trapped her forever, I am&#133;<br>It is five after one, and the time bomb keeps ticking.<br>I ride upon a suicidal roller coaster, day in and day out-<br>No one goes to heaven anymore.<br>I have traveled to the eternal land of the dying, <br>In this place no one shall ever see the light of day again-<br>A glimpse of the sun would be a taste of heaven-<br>I still can only taste the bitterness of liquid Thorazine <br>Tickling my tongue-god has forsaken me and<br>Locked me in this place.<br>I have never seen heaven before and it is only ten past one<br>My cry for help has been silenced.<br>I do not speak and only angels sing.<br>I cannot see beyond these dingy, yellowed walls.<br>This place is my graveyard, and<br>Hell has succumbed and taken over me.<br>There is no room for levity in this dungeon-<br>I am none but a ghost and only angels sing in heaven-<br>I hear their voices – the closest I can get to heaven-<br>And those voices they say aren’t even real, so-<br>I continue my solitary walk up and down these halls-<br>Here in the land of the evil dead, <br>I belong, Sadly, I belong…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Claudia+Krizay">Claudia Krizay</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358284" data-title="Life In The Land Of The Dead de Claudia Krizay" data-description="I live in the land of the dead.
Upon this path I have taken my walk alone.
My feet would hit the ground with hard and steady steps.
I hear cymbals crashing and the tuneful rhythm of the beating of drums.
I have lost myself along the way.
A lost an..."></div>
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