In My Room, There Are No Windows

Just a cave, a place for my mind to misbehave
among shadows…
cast by flames inside my head.

I can see whatever I want to see
in the flickering wall,
a library instead of a closet,
a place for every word worth committing to memory,
hung up on hangers.

I want to catch these shadows with my clumsy mind
like swinging a net at butterflies.
I caught one once with the melody of the guitar
leaning against the far wall.
Too bad I broke a string with ambition
and it melted away.

I can see everything I’m not,
everything I want to be,
flickering on walls that mock my dreams…
…that mock everything.
so I laugh like an inmate
that hasn’t slept for years.

I WANT to knock my fists through these walls
and let the light shine in on my flaws.

I WANT to knock my fists through the world
and let the light shine in on its flaws.

For years, I’ve wanted
windows of my own to peer through,
but nothing ever seems to be enough.
There is always room for change.

This is my Republic: population one;
maybe two if you count Nietzsche, my cat.
He doesn’t care much for republics though.