there is a window that i can see
because it was made especially for me
it is a normal window
made of simple wood and glass
perfectly square perfectly sectioned
and covered with a cloth
it is not fitted into a wall or a door
it is not placed in a house or laying on a floor
it is just there unnoticed if you are not looking
and even if you see you it is normal for you
you cant see what i see because it is mine
i have to tell you, i have to explain
i sit in front of the window
and remove the cloth
i look at the window, i look through the window
as i look into yesterday
i study the window looking at the locked scenes
wondering what they mean, wondering where they lead
just wondering
one pane is broken
completely jagged as if someone threw something through it
one pane is partially boarded
as if someone has moved and forgotten to finish closing it
one pane is painted but no color is distinguishable
like a child mixed all the colors together to find a new one
on the last pane is an unending rain
no clouds, no sounds just the designs of water
crisscrossing on the pane
the first pane goes into a room
with no way out and no way in
it is painted red and entirely empty
except for one word painted on the walls
hate
it goes around the walls in black
eye level to me
the words surround me
i start spinning around
and it seems like the words come of the walls
screams fill my head
i want to get out
i want to run and hide
but i cant get away
and then its gone
im in front of the window
looking back in
the boarded window pulls me next
a room filled with boxes
boxes being packed systematically
carefully labelled and pushed against the wall
i look at the writing
reading without understanding
seeing without seeing
the boxes arent filled with old clothes or toys
they are filled instead with thoughts and feelings
long lost emotions, forgotten words
the emptiness surprising
i watch the boxes pack and feel the pulling to stop them
then its gone
im outside
looking back in
the painted window i dont want to see
but again im in the room
looking back around
losing the way out
im just there beginning to remember
the things i see in my dreams
the things i see when im awake
its just a bedroom because theres a bed
clothes are pulled from the closets
dressers are emptied out
in the corners are things that hide
the broken floor board
the red toy bat that never managed to stay hidden
brooms and belts
clocks cover the walls
clocks that never give enough time
nothing happens
i want out but im not going anywhere
