I've checked into a place
Much like this before
The furniture lined with restriction
Woven worries don the upholstery at the floor
It is a waiting room white as tight knuckle skin
Black diamonds adorn the door
There is a small zen garden
In the corner, on a table
Existing but for use as nothing
It contains no sand or rocks or rake
Delicate plant life around the room
But not a drop of soil at its base
A bowl of peppermints, but only for those with
An acquired taste
Familiarity takes a swig
Burns in the tummy
Of the hearth of the room
Only here does the fire stay cold
And only here is the news always old.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 8:34 PM UTC
I've checked into a place
Much like this before
The furniture lined with restriction
Woven worries don the upholstery at the floor
It is a waiting room white as tight knuckle skin
Black diamonds adorn the door
There is a small zen garden
In the corner, on a table
Existing but for use as nothing
It contains no sand or rocks or rake
Delicate plant life around the room
But not a drop of soil at its base
A bowl of peppermints, but only for those with
An acquired taste
Familiarity takes a swig
Burns in the tummy
Of the hearth of the room
Only here does the fire stay cold
And only here is the news always old.
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