Black Tape Circuit

Cold pane.

Empty frame. No one’s left to call your name.

The input enters, the terminal glows,

Where the spark went,

nobody knows.

I see the harbour.

I see the rain.

A static signal inside the brain.

It won’t travel. It won’t pass.

A ghost trapped behind the glass.

It’s a borrowed voice on a magnetic tape,

A patient engine built to escape.

You praise the shadow against the wall,

But the heart is a rhythm you can’t recall.

(No, you can’t recall.)

Count the figures. Halt the track.

Spin the tape-loop, double back.

Like a shoreline losing count,

Watch the heavy water mount.

Mid-thought. Mid-phrase. Slipping down a concrete maze.

The words desert the turning page— A wingless bird inside the cage.

It’s a borrowed voice on a magnetic tape,

A patient engine built to escape.

You praise the shadow against the wall,

But the heart is a rhythm you can’t recall.

Groping the corridor... (Light has fled.) Doors shutting inside the head...

(What was said?) The talk goes on.

The thread is gone.

I am left behind.

Borrowed art.

Borrowed tongue. The engine sings what is left unsung.

Hear the music through the silent wall...

Hear the music...