My castle has gutters
and windows with right angles.
But they don’t make me feel well,
because they're not perfect,
Just a slush of mathematics
That don’t have an echo
Of the poetry.

If the world would let me,
I would take them off.
And sleep somewhere else
wake up to watch the inside freeze.

I can’t make the plants grow
since I leave my cigarettes half un-ash-ed
Sometimes they catch fire
and redo growths delay.

My castle has gutters
and I leave it without a soul,
So I can’t be the one to claim
the mistakes I’ve made.
with lonely days.