the green room across the way

do futures future, do pasts past? within its confines, anything may happen. its apparent sterility (the motion sensors seldom blink) shows it to simply be a symbol for possibility, one whose message carries into my own tiny, furnitureless room. my room that may be the subject of a thousand worried gazes. my room, the infinite never.

(the green room across the way deserves capitalization now. it is the green room across the way. it talks of nothing in the words of everything, a common problem: that old favorite, the desperate signifier.)

the walls of my room are very bare, revealing the i myself as myself, but of course, symbols only exist for the weak. the strong shatter, displace and ignore. they draw the curtains and they certainly don’t paint their houses green and leave the light on all night.

they definitely don’t sit up watching.


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