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Suppressed, elapsed youth
stacked on cold grey concrete shelves
concealed behind time.
A home with old doors
opened for a 1000 intentions
but still more without.
Early morning light
is framed by a closed window
reflecting my mind.
For nothing locked in
this cages roof reaches the sky
a door disappeared.
A long walk with mist
on the fields it is silent
with the sun’s last shine.
Sometimes the shadow
hidden in this monochrome
obscures the light switch.
Sliding down towards
the place you escaped, the past
still missing restraints.
You perceive, observe
the other – object – adverse
it was my intent.
A daily clue that
thoughts are like our oldest needs
and our mask might break.
Our reality
Actual or attitude
Or non-existent.
