You wake up as akimbo limbs: uncertain if you can: even stand in such a room: as yours: and something else: is in your spirit: wanton and ravenous: but caged: you are surrounded: by drawings of flowers and leafs of another century: and the portraits of people: long dead: family you never knew: like desire and guilt: though none will feed you or hold you: and what lives outside your windows: are a constant fascination: how can anyone be like that: knowing: they too see you peeking through: and think much the same: you’ve got to clean house: there’s barely enough room: for you to move from window: to window: in this morning light: which bends in golden: and makes you feel: like your skin: is patterned wallpaper: fading a little more each hour: like these old ghosts: unable to lift: from their pages