Darkened corners of darkened rooms,
Totality, revised beyond recognisable.
In the tunnels of ruthfulness, fury reigns,
Fury aimed at the utterances of one’s petulant soul;
Guarded, unseen, beauty in what’s not known.
Seemingly, land is forgotten beyond the tunnel,
A world of tunnels, underground, residual;
Formations of nothing, of delicate impairment.
Distraction in all that should matter
To one’s mind and to one’s body.
With the flashing of lights,
And the rumblings of air-circulation.
Alone, walking, stumbling,
Choking on the viscosity of recycled air,
Suffocating, drowning in the particles of past youth.
Feeling the concrete beneath my feet,
Caught in the ever-glow of electric light,
Electricity born in some far-away utopia,
All while I plod, and think,
Thinking about the lives of others
Living in those sweet, sweet utopias.
Jettisoned away from the joy of being,
Acclimatised to the sorrow of harboured hope.
Rats crawl around holes in locked doors,
Doors leading to the multiverse; unexplored.
Whilst all I can do is walk.
Insipid, beneath sunlight, deprived.
Malnourished of intimacy,
United with the rigidity of the walls beside.
But it is all I can do to
Walk the tunnels continuously.