Forget about glass that holds out the
world
Imagine the bone that bares a mind,
Can a room harbour its own universe –
Or contain a flowing galaxy of despair
drifting
Endless because of tremendous torment
Liquidity of the walls, floor, contents; it.
Green vines cling to consciousness and
tighten
At the slightest inclination of anything –
-
Less than a sickening sense of sublime
divinity
Which is unattainable to it; it is not what it deserves.