IN MY ROOM THE WALLS MOVE ON

Sometimes this cracked wall turns
its blind eyes on me, my body
weighted down by the mattress
carrying the floor.

I dream of a quiet life
beneath this world. A life
that goes on slapping against rocks,
wearing stone down to its splinters.

In my room, waiting is everything.
The mold on the wall draws a snowman
while it waits for the crumbling
built into my life to begin.

📸: Techno Pova Neo.