Demarcation around you,
Within which you get cozy.
Then brick by brick it rises.
This windowless room,
Going no higher than your
Head and no wider than
Your narrow shoulders.
It keeps ricocheting all your
Thoughts back at you.
It's rediscovering yourself
At first.
It's looking within yourself,
Feeling redeemed, then
The self re-enforcement
Grows a thousand layers thick.
You choke on yourself and
Intolerable boredom sets in.
But who's there to talk?
Your voice being repeatedly
Sent back at you by the walls,
You implode in yourself.
In the architecture of loneliness,
With no shoulders to cry,
You sulk on your own high and
That's the saddest kind of life.