Four walls of a home
without architect
***** sides of a prison
with no shape of escape.

At first I resist
only after lengthy initiation
do I break upon the tiles
and finally accept the drywall.

Rage turns into mumbled mantra
shelter me, protect me
so I never know my true age.

In time---
you will become both:
my greatest strength and weakness
until my body leans the same way as you
broken planks of wood,
plaster covered with human sheen
As sacrilegious as a sweat stain---
against a polished gold frame.

My voice...
will fade from lack of use.

As one timid word becomes two
two forms a dependent relationship
that gives birth to premature three
and the shape of unhealthy four---
crafts the walls,
and erodes the decrepit foundation
of what I am now.