Eight Corners Of A Small Mind

I found myself in a room full of questions

there was hardly any air

only false smiles and pretend love.

I couldn’t escape this room

there were no doors no windows

only walls and walls and walls

closing me in smashing my perceptions

goring me with bull horn and silence.

I stared into the bleak tomorrow

and I could see nothing but walls

the scene was endlessly repeated

on this silver screen of drywall and paint.

I stared at it until it woke me from my stupor

with blaring sounds of busy ness

I shook away the bald reminders

and with a certain sense of fatalism

moved forward toward the wall.

It engulfed me and surrounded my eyes

it entranced and engaged me

with hasty decisions borne of necessity

until I was in some sort of other room

just as stuffy, noiseless and humid

and I saw the walls were painted

with colorless intentions

so I sat down and waited for the last time.

I will wait until this room collapses

with age and time

and I will walk over this rubble

to the outside,

and stop breathing.

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