A closet made of dusty mirrors that no solution clears
Rusted window bars facing the West
Ragged purposed curtains, stainless pigment of a matted blue
Kempt in the early days of residency, hung for no particular use
The shells of sea urchins collected with care
From biggest to smallest, assorted within an inch of themselves
Settled at the third row of my empty shelf
Studded like discs of a convoluted spine
Studded like diamonds without prisms of shine
Treated only with learned fingers to clasp
Kept whole
The meaninglessness of adolescence emboldened by chance
At hand the spontaneity of freedom from pleasure
Freedom from choice
When did the darkness first fall?
Polished floors of rock and stone; mosaics of formless faces
From my kaleidoscope periphery
Pulse playing the portrayal of performances enhancing pretentious palatability
So keen to be
Whatever impresses me
And if the trees had been stripped
As the glass had been struck with my wrist
Would I have exposed myself so freely
To the Sun?
This \"freedom\",
When with me will it be done?