The Purpose of Rooms

At the end of the day,
worry is not a question.

No one asks the dead-


At the threshold of the door,
there are two concerns-

leave or live.

Rooms and the purpose
of rooms becomes a riddle-

inside of all of us,
an unfamiliar puzzle.

The night, the city,
my stretched skin

my captured soul,
my unended beginning...

becomes a room.

I dreamt I was born
in the hollow
of a wooden shell-

somehow, at the end
of the day, (incomplete)

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