deepundergroundpoetry.com

A Pictureless Space

The times you remember you have nothing when you are in a room that is not yours but is supplied to you by the goverment. When you do not have the freedom to put pictures on the wall. When you must stare at the bare white walls of a hotel room, with it's ugly brown and tanish colored curtains, it's sickingly white lampes that pertrude from the walls. The television that only has a certain amount of channels. The only pictures hanging on the walls are pictures of flowers, pretty irises white painted in water color style. Small room with four walls, a door that was broken for the longest time, a ocean blue/green carpet and tiny refrigerator and a out of date microwave with a dial instead of buttons.

Other people constantly yelling from the other room, people that belong here asking my mother for rides. A cot is my nest of dreams, where I am allowed to cry myself to sleep listening to my music about being lost in paradise and running towards the end of the dream.

A picture is worth a thousand words.
But when there are no pictures to tell a story.
I have to give you a picture of something that has no pictures.

So imagine something that has nothing but you have to make into something.
This is meant to play the role of my home, I do not know for how long.

So this is my picture of a pictureless space.