Through this space steel beams extend,
racing towards so quickly,
things that lie beyond the end
of these walls that sit around me,
high they soar, sick, thick and bitter,
by night their sight shows faintly,
but come the day they aptly litter
The walls that sit around me
with limpid shadows now observed
that quickly fade to nothing,
nothing but the walls that curve
and thickly sit around me.
The windows cased above this place
frame gray skies discreetly,
through the panes morn is displaced
and softly comes to meet me.
I am in your bed, once again,
indifferently thinking,
of perfection that has found mend,
of the walls that sit around me.
formless, unpoetic joy,
my skin between your bed sheets,
I am here, I won't destroy
the walls that sit around me.