I had higher hopes of what I will become
And it’s more clear
That I’m apathetic
The stranger who hides beyond the crevice in the wall
Holding onto thoughts
Building slightly cramped rooms
The spine adjusts to its mortal coil
It recoils again and it finds a narrow source of light
That light is mine
Mine to hold
Mine to sliver
Mine to behold
And If you know what’s good for you
You’ll stay away from me
You’ll stay away from that crevice in the wall
From that eye that stares at you
That spiritual center
That spiritual lie
That feeling that was created by
Insulin
Shot through the eye
Demonstrate it
Behold it
Unfold the mattress
The filter needs to be cleaned
It needs to be cleaned
Because that’s why we breathe this air
That’s why we hold onto this
That’s why we dream of better things
I don’t want to tell you that you’ll not get anything
Maybe you will
Maybe you won’t
Maybe it’s all chance
Maybe the growl
Maybe the tick-tock of that clock that never stops ticking
Going time
Going time
It’s about to go
Time for you to go
And now time for me to hold onto this
Whatever this is
The changing mold of water
In your palms
That perfume still lingers
In that elevator
That elevator that goes up
And Descends into Chaos
Release me to mortal coils
Release me to elevators
Release me to that office smell
The smell of kindergarten oppression
The smell of yellow nothingness
Disinfectant
In the hospital room
That is always there
In the hospital room
You’re born into it
And you’ll Die from it
And it’s stale
Human
Inhuman attitudes
That’s what gets you
I wanted to scream a little
But the room is too small to scream in
The room is too small to scream in
I can’t even sit right anymore
My spine tingles at the mortal coil
My spine tingles at the mortal coil
My spine is gone
I hold onto whatever this is left with
I hold onto whatever I’m left with
I’m praying
Put in Electrodes
Chemically infused
Behaviourally trained
Metaphysically castrated
Into a zombie-like stupor
I hold onto this
The elevator that descends into chaos
Maybe it will provide
That ting of doors opening to that reality
Maybe I’m dreaming
My spine tingles
We’re all born to disinfectant
And you’ll all be gaping at the life that you thought would be
And it never was
And my spine still tingles
From sitting too long in offices that smell like cramped
Disinfected
Hospital rooms
Rooms and rooms
Going round and around
To that same…
To that same
Fucking place
We will all end up in
That same
Fucking place
You to will end up
At that same
Fucking space
No matter how many times you try to escape it
The room is too small to scream in.
© A.R. Minhas 2016
