Jesus was crawling inside the walls
I could hear it, the tap-tap-tapping
Of a crucifix against drywall
It wasn't rats, it wasn't cats or birds
It was Him, come again, back from the dead
Inside my head to tap-tap-tap his awful tune

I tried to cut Him out, to find the tapping.
Digging holes out of the walls that trapped Him
But He never wanted to be found
Just to make again, that awful, awful sound

I moved away, I ran and hid
Going mad, I surely thought I did
And the noises; they didn't ever stop
The tapping, rapping, cracks and pops
He was hiding beneath the counter top
But when I looked, was gone

I booked into a hospital,
Under a different name
Convinced, I was, I was insane
But didn't want Him to find me
And put this tapping, rapping in my brain.
But His plan, it turned out all the same
St. Dymphna's, I should have seen the name
The Saints, all part of the same game
No escape, caged in, a noose inside my vein
His face inside a picture frame
Inside a drawer, the book that held his name
And despite broken glass and page torn
Still the tapping came

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Author guidance for This poem

Archi Teuthis has inspired me to try my hand again at poetry after many years having left it alone.

I tend to rarely follow any poetry conventions consciously and tend to write with a heavy use of metaphor that probably only I get. I also like to hide snippets of extra information relevant to the subject matter in my poems.

To be honest, I don't think anything I write makes much sense or is any good even though I once had a poem of mine published (which ironically I hated, thinking it one of my worst ever poems).

Feel free to provide criticism and advise or to ask what the hell I'm writing about.

P.S. Oh, the title This Silent Tirade is also that of the first poem in case it's not obvious.

updated Apr 11 '09 by darkliquid