Everyday / Monday, October 11th, 2010

The walls are white
Lemony in their warmth
Through the windows
Stretch cement blocks of love
Labored testimonies that we humans
can build walls faster than friendships

My bed stands erect
its sheets of gold aching against a dim sun
Arch my feet against the leather backed chair
The repose for my butt
That sits here day through day

These walls are not walls
They are my dreams
I build them here
Home to my thoughts
Repository for staleness
They sit here patient

I seek not the world
when the world is here
for so much can walls
contain that the world can
never give

Four+Four I count
The sun can rise and set
And I sit here away
from the castration a world
can give to one who has no balls.

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