Читать книгу dampness - Jasen Sousa - Страница 4

756 square feet

of new space

I have never slept in.

Windows are shut

to keep rain from damaging

my bamboo floors.

The smell of new paint

covers me like the sheet

that drapes over one leg, July heat.

Everything in here is foreign, I have trouble

sleeping, surrounded by walls that will never know me

as much as I will get to know them.

I try to sleep in my new place

longing for old

comfort.

A bookcase full of magnetic voices

that call to my metal brain, wanting me to read

them all at once.

Voices of wisdom, despair, try to get me

to do something

I don’t want to do, be.

I am kept company by a single LED light

that lets me see

what I’m writing, while I try

and ignore what I’m thinking.