Stillness is Irrelevance

I’ve lost count of the tallies.

White walls turned black.

Poster board,

unadorned memorabilia;

souvenirs of expired purpose

that suck the dust from the room

and bear it with shame on their shoulders.

Brushed away

and I’m not sure what I’m seeing.

Cleaned and bare,

but I don’t see what was once in there

and I don’t know if I am here

or just spinning in a quicksand bedroom.

Never leaving; never really wanting to.

Drawing lines down

where numbers rob themselves of meaning.

( ❤ Mitch)


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