I live in a room unlike the others
There is no collection of books lining the walls
No box of records lying in the corner for me to flip through
Nothing haphazardly littering the floor to keep me from walking
No unfinished paintings tucked away somewhere
No counters covered in dishes, and no full sink

There is no sink at all
Or any place to **** and ****
And I can only bathe
In what I want to wash myself clean of
I live in a room with walls of plastic
And an aroma of ozone from burning out
I have spent so much time running around the room
Because there doesn't seem to be anything else I can do

Right now I'm tired; I am resting
But I will miss that ozone
And I will keep on running
Like I have forgotten that there is no door
Or window to climb out of
There is only use in escaping what is in the room
I rest to escape the running
When there is too much happening
And the ozone burns my nose
I run to escape the idea that nothing ever happens
And nothing ever will.