31 January 2009

we live

we live our lives behind closed doors 
in little boxes on the hills
and we hide in the comfort of solitude
cowering behind a pride that is
mistaken for stoicism or a false sense of loyalty
to the rutabagas boxing next door

through the pixilated window I can see china
and tonight i'll pretend to learn russian
i'll make a cerebellum smoothie
and suck down every last dendrite
until i'm full up on amnesia
and can play ragtime upon the stove

my walls are yellow, behind closed doors
reflecting the dead sunflowers, i suppose
and the carpet becomes a mirror
a reminder of the father
swallowing coal, and saying
"what's happened to you?"

yet all i know are little boxes
and all i see are mirrored expressions
of white toothed faces on tropical islands
getting happy at the click of a button
i am further away yet packing-taped in
to the dollhouse world where i live. 

1 comment:

Jacey Braband said...

beautious! did you take this?