Echoes Carved Into Plaster

Echoes Carved Into Plaster

Echoes Carved Into Plaster
Tonight I stand barefoot on cold tile, my voice flint-struck in a midnight room
Walls stained with last winter’s leaks and the dust of unanswered prayers
I shout your name to the drywall, spit questions like venom into the gloom
Every syllable ricochets, biting back with the taste of what nobody dares.There’s no reply but the rattle of pipes, the tick of a clock that never keeps faith
No miracle rises from linoleum, no shadow bends the light in my favor
I empty my throat, rip at the seams, beg for a reason to swallow my rage
But the ceiling stares blankly down, unmoved by the confessions I try to savor.If there’s a heaven in this house, it’s hiding in the closet with my lost shoes
If there’s a god worth his weight, he’s deaf or drunk or long gone
I punch the air, words bleeding through cracked lips
Each accusation rolling off paint, every demand returning wrong.I ask why the sick get sicker, why good men choke on regret
Why babies die in borrowed cribs, why I can’t forget the things I can’t forgive
Why my father’s hands shook when he held me, why my mother’s eyes dimmed in debt
Why the world spits out saints and lets the bastards live.No choir sings in my kitchen, just the hum of the fridge and the pipes moaning low
I wait for a sign, a flicker, a breath, anything to break this silence in two
But the room just listens with old indifference, the shadows long and slow
I drop to my knees, wrists aching, knowing there’s nothing left to do.All my curses dissolve into spit on the floor
My prayers fold back on themselves, bitter as winter wind
I tear at the air until my lungs beg for mercy
But this room remembers every plea, every sin.Maybe faith was a fever I caught in my youth
Maybe forgiveness is only for those who believe
I’ve learned to shout at empty walls, to search the cracks for truth
To accept that even the loudest cries are just echoes that never leave.