Clogged From Spontaneity. Desirous of a Routine.


Passing invisible corners
Wood grain paneling
Splinters air
Like a flake of lumber
Inside tissue.

Passing invisible corners
A dog yelps.
Walls conceal the source
Of noise-those of matter,
Thus I identify
With remaining memories.
The assault becomes what I know…
A tongue lashing
The last parcel of peanut butter
Positioned between the grooves
Of a ribbed mouth.

“What is not there?”
I ask the pigment
Of invisible corners.

“When walls talk
They never shut-up.”

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