No window.
Just walls.
A wall of walls, none
of them matching,
even wanting to,
uneasy comfort among chaos –
chaos.

Breath takes, gives nothing.
Nothing is –
is

all that is left.
No window
or escape
for the false absence –
absence.

Deception
precedes the sunset
though
with no window,
who would know?
Know.

Lies as good as truth,
filling the void from wall to wall,
when all is unknown,
unknowable and alone –
alone.

Speak not to the walls,
when comfort is needed
they will sell you only
hollowed out mandates,
empty tidings,
sad husks of empathy,
your own absurd words –
words.