student

this room
bland white walls with so many holes
holes which show where once someone had hung posters
probably some nice posters of gods
gods of guitar, beauty, gods of physique
ornate iron bars surround the only window
i can taste every word
feel the hot moistness of every word
there is no lock on the door
feeling, tasting, smelling every word
meaningless words now
that door knob barely works
those words meant something once
these walls have to be closing in
the air is thick with body heat
eyelashes, skin pores, every imperfection
the room is so small...there is barely any air
and it all smells like words
tastes like words
feels like words
those words once were held in such regard
now...once though
I've never felt so far away from something

DonovanDuVal

Reminds me of my first day in halls at uni. The only thing missing was the poem in Greek that was scrawled on the brick wall. Oh and thankfully the door to my sh*thole of a room had a lock on.

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"I've been Donovan DuVal. Take care of yourselves, and each other."