1 Apartment, Two Rooms

Nostalgia, welcome to my home,

You’ve made quite a permanent impression,

On both my energy and life lessons,

But you’ve also been gone a little too long.


With you here, the dead silence has gone,

The filthy gift of two seconds ago has regressed into repression,

And I do, no longer, see this reflection,

That seems to be made of two tones.


As I lie, in bed, in morning, in mind,

The woman in the next room may be my future,

But my past, currently, is so pleasant I don’t think I could refuse its sick humor,

I might accidently call her mine,

The black spaces in night to which the eyes are comprised,

Overwhelm a failing eyesight in short time.


I think I have to get up…

Open my door,

Take three steps,

Open her door,

And join her, in her sleep,

No not like a creep,

Because, unfortunately I have boundaries to keep,

But like a man,

Who knows what he wants and no longer can stand,

Alone/the false euphoria the prickly poisonous past demands,

I hold her head in my hands,


This is now.


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