The room has four walls

The room has four walls 

And a window and a door 

And it always feels empty  

Even when it’s a mess 

The room has four walls  

And a ceiling which by rights 

Should be more novel to stare at 

Or at least I think so 

The room has four walls 

And the wardrobe doors are mirrored all the way down 

For shoes I suppose 

And they’re the most common reason anyone else comes in 

The room has four walls  

And feels empty 

And people say it gets too warm 

But the window is always open 

The room has four walls 

And a boring ceiling  

And a bed from which the ceiling can be viewed 

If the feeling takes me 

The room has four walls  

And shelves of books and clutter 

And sorting the shelves always feel out of character 

Since I got them that way in the first place 

The room has four walls 

And spiders live in the light fixture 

But they’re decent company for the most part 

So they can stay 

The room has four walls 

And is always too hot 

Even though the radiator is never on 

And the window’s always open 

The room has four walls 

And a dusty carpet 

That makes skin go red if you lie on it too long 

While attempting to do sit-ups 

The room has four walls 

And mirrors useful for trying shoes 

And other things useful for very little 

So pay no mind 

The room has four walls  

And a window and a door 

And a ceiling and shelves  

And mirrors and dust 

And a bed and spiders 

And constant heat 

And yet I live there 

Probably out of habit 

–

Surprisingly this was originally written before quarantine, but it feels very fitting now as I try to get back into writing after the void the last months have been.