Antisocial

A meager watch collection ticks its lifespan On the nightstand Fashioned from a secondhand lamp and Medium density fiberboard These are the things which I've accrued In my search for the sunlight Untouched literature lines the corner bookshelf All virginal white lacquer and standardized hardware I'm acutely aware of these things lately The two-lite sliding window is ever-so-slightly open Behind birch wood blinds shut tight Bleeding thin wisps of light between each slat How many surfaces lying in wait for a dusting have I disappointed? The eastward wall is all off-white sheen Unadorned for the sake of acting as a projector screen Of untapped movie date potential Now that I'm alone I refuse to make a big deal out of these things So in a song I'll whisper instead of sing Thich Nhat Hanh's words mark the lavender pin-up calendar By the closed door affecting an air of idyllic zen To a hypothetical daily departure 29 days was too many for a broken heart to stomach And I must now reckon with the potentiality Of spending a lifetime in this limbo of five walls Staring down the artifacts of a previous me I can hardly recognize Without the lens of another soul "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"