Jason Berkowitz

Rookie (June 11,1973 / Boston, MA)

My Eyes Are Open - Poem by Jason Berkowitz

The Muted Night will not speak,
sitting in a chair by the Kitchen sink.
An empty glass with nothing to drink.

Deep dark cabin, old and dreary,
hidden thoughts cold and teary.
The hunger for something that is not there,
and what is it now, that is spoiling the air.

I light my candle as I sit in my chair,
while mobs of empty bottles surround me to Glare.
Their Silhouettes rise from the table,
Dancing to candle light's stories and fables.

Burning wax, melting through time,
march away moments, Melodies in Rhyme.
Power, Lust, Rotting Bones,
Falling skies, thoughts that roam.

By candle light I speak the words,
By candle light I loose my nerves.
Eating away to the heart of the brain,
count every dot, You'll never be sane.

Thoughts of the past, tasting sour,
click-away clocks marking the hours.
Growing ivy of wasted time,
shinny marble turns to slime.

Dancing silhouettes grow larger with strength,
Weakening candle shortens in length.

Odorless visions floating by,
Decrepted Dreams waiting to die.

The tinkling sound of crickets, sing my tune,
timid candle wanting to bloom.
Shadows grow tall licking the ceiling,
the candle now crawls losing it's feeling.

The melting of wax marking it's path,
the bottles are Loud and yell with a laugh.
Peeling paint on the wall,
tear it off, the future calls.

The red wax candle nods with a sigh,
I slump in my chair as candle light dies.

Shadows are joined almost as one,
a puff of smoke, the candle is done.
The unified shadows now take there seats,
the candles out, but I'm not asleep.

What am I doing here,
what do I see and what do I fear.

An Obese Blanket Of Black.

Comments about My Eyes Are Open by Jason Berkowitz

  • (4/8/2006 12:05:00 PM)

    Powerful, haunting and moving. Well done.
    Anna xxx
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  • (4/8/2006 12:00:00 PM)

    Deep and a very captivating write. wow

    Patricia Gale
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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 8, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 15, 2006

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