sly slip of the tongue
adds another brick
to the zealous pile
I’m building my house
There ain’t gonna be no windows
I’m building my house
And the only door will be the plunger
One by one
I lay the stones which will
Save me from the loving beams
Of light airy familiarity
for so long I bathed in
the traveling swing of
easy discontent
but now
I’m building my house
There ain’t gonna be no windows
I’m building my own dungeon
And the only door will be oblivion
Author notes
This is fourth in a series of five stream of consciousness poems that I wrote over the course of less than 12 hours.
Written March 6th, 2006
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