Ears, Eyes, Else
My walls have ears,
I ask them a question,
"If your lock's on the inside
why do I feel so constricted?
Why do you feel less like a Village
and more like a box?"
My walls can hear,
But I'm not sure if I want them to talk.
They hear every lazy moan and groan,
they hear my half-hearted self pity.
They hear calf stretches on foam rollers
and petty arguments through clenched teeth
& gritted molars.
If my walls had eyes what would they see?
A tar pit Wonderland, sinking sand
Half naked full mockery hypocrisy;
If my walls had eyes would they see
empty wine bottles, records on repeat,
and pity me?
If my walls noticed anything
would they suffocate in smoke rings
as thick tobacco fills
the Summer night humidity?
A sojourner, a sinner,
just another tenant,
Would my walls at least find me interesting?