Mystery melts into the walls
and gently lifts the paint,
altering the corners by means of
origami. The carpet grows,
in need of a cut. Tables roam
the space like drugged psychopaths.
All is caving, crumbling inward.
Giant paper swans with indistinguishable
markings telling me what this all means
or matters. Air drifts into small questions.
Gapped flooring filled with tar of the
prehistoric periods somehow flawless.
Posing so many questions,
how do you do?


2 thoughts on “Mystery

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