it looks like the inside of my cortex

Loose screws with a loose table for my verbal contortions

A few books and spells surrounded by potions

Vertical blinds shut tight, the way they were forced in

Mattress on the floor
tucked on top of a box spring

Fornication smell, but no room for my offspring

I don't live alone, instead, I live with these objects

Mac 27 inch, I pad that's never dim...tech floods the room like CSI evidence

Solid speakers to echo feelings a resonance

Window closed, but when it's open the moonlight just settles in

This is my cave but, you can call it my residence.

A 911 call at a trap house.
A cop finds a dead dude with a broken face and a satchel of ****.
When his detective buddy says "ey whats the cause of death?"
He picks up the **** and goes "Blunt force trauma."
His partner looks at him like "srsly?"
He just laughs.

"You're not one of them", he says
"I can tell, I got this GIFT, see?"
The relief clear on his animated face
Too twitchy, too... off
"They watch us, you know?
They got those satellites and ****
They'll read your ID through your pocket
Then they gotcha!"
I nod, only mildly alarmed
And throw down my smoke.
Step on it to make sure it's out
"Only you can prevent forest fires"
A childhood echo
He picks it up
Looks wildly around
"Your DNA is on that! Epithelials!
I seen it! I seen it on that CSI!"
I mumble something
His eyes narrow. He laughs too hard.
"Kidding man, I'm just kidding"
He skitters off, like an ant missing 4 legs
I look up, and nod to the ****** on the roof.

~JNc
9-15