pure tedium, or all
apprehension.
Always this thought-
provoking admixture
of both.
Morning
by evening,
corridor by room,
like a cunning set
of chess moves—
like the light
is stalked by gloom—
I can see that I
must castle
at the border
of uncertainty—
only,
truth be told,
I have no
exit strategy
should confusion
or mistrust choose to
dispense with all the subtleties
and tunnel
right under
the fortress of me.
