I awake to see the shining sun there,
     rationed on the ground.
Chopped in perfect rectangles,
     an arrangement quite profound.
The metal grates high over head,
     I saw not in the night.
Now creating repetition as they,
     limit solar light.

I rub my eyes and stretch my back,
     I feel my old bones creak.
Answers to my questions,
     are the remedy I seek.
"Good Morning" I now venture,
     as I turn to see her here.
But the blanket sits upon the chaise,
     an awkward souvenir.

I sit up quick and look around,
     the colours fill my eyes.
And make the very act of searching,
     something to despise.
Fatigue sets in, the canvas screams,
     as left to right I dart.
Alas no sign of Y to see
     and dread besets my heart.

I call her name thrice more,
     until I feel I'm quite the fool.
As I scream interrogatives
     like a boy detesting school.
A simple snort is all I make,
     to recognise the humour.
And stifle further outburst,
     as the truth destroys the rumour.

She is not here I realise,
     not hiding somewhere close.
The distinct lack of her presence,
     now becomes rhetoric ploce.
Why oh why would she take leave?
     Why leave me on my own?
The questions build inside my mind,
     a complex honeycomb.

Each thought is linked with others,
     in a way that never ceases.
I'm left without a single known,
     my entire world in pieces.
I know not where I've come from.
     I know not who I am.
I feel the facts frustrating me,
     a drive behind a dam.

It feels like words on tip of tongue,
     that tease you for release.
These bites of information,
     that I hope to bring me peace.
I lay back down for moments few
     a break from thoughts I need.
And the that odour hits again,
     and from my crypt I'm freed.

Bread! My mind exclaims at once,
     Bread! it shouts again.
The scent now unmistakable,
     I thank the Lord, Amen.
And on the table sitting there,
     I spy from vantage low.
A loaf with note along its side,
     and my hope begins to grow.

I stand too quick and stumble forward,
     stooping like a monkey.
Muscles, limbs quite out of sync,
     make for movement clunky.
I reach the table top and stare,
     my nose is wildly drinking.
The smell of bread just baked this morn,
     confuses normal thinking.

The hour unknown, I find it hard,
     how did she make the time.
And I myself did stir not once,
     as she baked her bread divine.
The portion I ate yesterday,
     had travelled straight from heaven.
As crisp and sweet I've ne'er before,
     experienced from leaven.

It's now in daylight hours,
     that I see the tiny stove.
An oven sits below it,
     and some pans inside alcove.
A sink completes the kitchen,
     so small but yet complete.
And all at once I love her more,
     in everything elite!

The note is written in her hand,
     for whom else could it be?
I haven't seen another here,
     inside her sanctuary.
It starts with simple greeting,
     that's colloquial in style.
And then the rest in rhyming verse,
     twas all that I could smile.

"Enjoy the bread, rest your head,
     How very loud your snoring!
My ears they bled, and so I fled,
     And left to go exploring.
I bound your leg, with wooden peg,
     No bones were looking broken.
No time for egg, don't even beg,
     But heed what I have spoken"

I say her words out loud until,
     the name there at the end.
Written all in letters large,
     and so very crudely penned.
There's hesitation in its style,
     as if author bound by fear.
And when I speak this word aloud,
     my world begins to blear.

"YOLANDA!" My head implodes,
     and all I see is black.
I try to blink the dark away,
     but the colours won't come back.
I know my eyes deceive me,
     for the world is present still.
I feel the warmth of sunlight,
     as it overpowers the grill.

The name repeats again and more,
     until it's all I hear.
Echos round and round,
     as if my brain about to shear.
The tension mounds, I feel the pressure,
     deep inside my skull.
I pray the end comes swiftly,
     and the end commands a lull.

I put my hands aside my head,
     and press with all my might.
Anything to stop the pain,
     that burns as lamp in night.
In hear that name Yolanda!
     again again again.
It buries deep inside and
     begs the question "Am I sane?"

With head still clasped my knees give out,
     I sink unto the floor.
And rolling tight into a ball,
     I pray they'll be no more.
But one more word, a name rings through,
     and makes me scream it out.
"Xavier", unto the skies,
     my mouth is forced to shout!

And as I lie here eyes a blur,
     exhausted on the deck.
The burning colours slip
     mosaic noose around my neck.
Water streams from eyes so red,
     I beg the light to stop.
And pull myself to kneeling,
     with the help of tabletop.

I feel my conscience fading fast,
     and look to skies beyond.
Dark clouds have gathered overhead,
     A deep green murky pond.
And blinking hard I see a flash,
     a flash of brilliant green.
Like lightning bolts across the cloud,
     like which I've never seen.

Too tired to stand I slink to floor,
     and lay my body down.
The clouds continue flashing,
     bringing light to heaven's gown.
My strength runs out, I slip once more,
     to where the dreams run wild.
And fantasise this world away,
     to wish myself a child.

In my dreams my pain is gone,
     I've energy to burn.
I run down unknown city streets,
     I remember every turn.
I'm going home. I'm going home!
     the thrill I feel increases.
And then I'm shocked awake once more,
     my dreams reduced to pieces.

The flashes now more regular,
     still rage in storm outside.
A noise has joined the lightning,
     and continues amplified.
It's not the roar of thunder,
     that ripples through the air.
But something much more sinister,
     a wail beyond compare.

The pain I hear from noise above,
     I'm sure of the emotion,
Continues on, the flashing strobes,
     a sensory commotion.
Though my eyes are firmly shut,
     the flashes penetrate.
And through my eyelids force themselves,
     to further explicate.

There is at work a force reviled,
     a process to be hated.
One it seems the very Earth,
     opposes segregated.
Or mayhap my displeasure,
     at my current situation.
Produced hallucinations,
     of most vivid tribulation.

And at the climax of it all,
     crescendo's job complete.
I pray for an end to swiftly come,
     to see the Paraclete.
Yet quicker than it started,
     the frenetic fury wanes.
And peace once more becomes the norm,
     though darkness still remains.

And further still the sky above,
     ameliorated hue.
Restored to how it was before,
     the brilliant, boundless blue.
The tiny graveyard reappears,
     cast unto the ground.
As sunlight drawn and quartered makes,
     the sweetest silent sound.

I lay on stone and contemplate,
     the facts I've come to know.
The slivers of the memories,
     that I cultivate to grow.
I try so hard to push my mind,
     sometimes I'm sure I see,
A crack, a dent, a rupture form,
     in my reality.

Nothing's as it seems it seems,
     everything is new.
The things I knew now lost in time,
     my world, the world askew.
Xavier, my name perhaps?
     Yolanda, hers for sure.
But why that name should trigger thoughts,
     I'd like to know for sure.

Perhaps we've met some time before,
     and my memory conceals.
Or maybe she's deceiving me,
     and with the dark she deals.
I cannot know, for sure, I know,
     a burden I must bear.
My asinine dilemma,
     leaves my mind in disrepair.

I drift unto the land of nod,
     the place where nightmares roam.
Preying on the weak of spirit,
     luring them from home.
Then when the safety paramount,
     appears to be complete,
The evil machinations strike,
     in manners indiscreet.