I walked down

I walked down one street, forever straight, with the same walls coming one after the next taking me nowhere. It might never stop. This street wouldnt end. It would, somewhere beyond where I could go, be washed over with sand and dry rocks. I could get down onto it and brush with my hands and the street would keep going down beneath the sand. The walls would flake away out there. When I look into the whiteness of the sky and fine rain rakes my throat, I see glossy walls in the emptiness. I look at things for too long and they become part of me. I maybe just want them. I think I want to be surrounded by walls. On one street is all of this. My apartment window is black too. I made a day apart from the others. I had wanted this one to be in the middle but it is at the end. I had wanted things to happen. I knew they would. I wanted them to come on their own out of lifeless things, living moments from the mad focus on those things that I have found and tried to fit myself around. I thought they would take me there. The living moments are filled with those things too and she just looked me and saw those things again, where I was, in my day, and she made me out of them, and I cant help doing the same. If I couldnt see now, but only know, that back through all of those empty hours she was just behind the veneer of the things, I could pull shut the curtains and watch the walls take the light from the lamps. I started it. It wouldnt be giving up on the day. It would be stopping it before it had a chance to end on me, just another thing that happened upon me.

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