Mindrush Fuss.

left the light on
behind thick curtains
i ask you to look
when these objects block
the light spreading onward.

caught in the web so much higher
than i'd like it to be
your perspective
miles down the lone oak tree
limbs stretch across the fibers
to find their own capacity.

various boxes left about the skull
sealed and marked. lids touch the damaged
ceiling. try to find space
to move about freely. to give
the time of day you so
desperately need.

rewinding progression, letting go
of inbox messages,
old dog-eared pages i analyzed for
hours and hours and hours. only to find
your discontent.

the old warehouse collection
of mindless babel cracking canvas
the door cries out
to be replaced.
the owner
does not listen.

the owner
cannot listen.