Sitting in my lounge room

Mechanical whirling of slushing laundry,
Relentless buzzing of the stagnant fridge
Serenade my thoughts that dart across my universe,
Like persistent flies that evade frenetic human hands.
The blinds closed and the lights out,
I see the drooping plant with writhing leaves,
The single empty wine glass in the almost silent space.
Thoughts burst of empty seashells,
Which once encased life, now relics of the forgotten dead.
Outside the sound of tyres disturbing puddles
And the pitter-patter of rain,
Outside where I play the part, the solitary figure,
Hands clasping one another.
At night I clutch the quilt with quickened breath,
Thoughts echoing, as if inside a cave,
Until at last sleep washes all away,
Before morning when thoughts spawn once more,
As tears well up and descend familiar valleys.
The mirror reminds me of time’s merciless assault,
As upon a flower,
To erode its plump radiance to ever be chosen.
My heart a dull void, punctuated by swelling panic,
As time speeds forth into the wide unknown.