These walls tighten surrounding this hutch
encapsulated brain on matters defunct
still spinning, not traveling, but whats the fuss?
riding the ride all day long and still not strong
just a cat, without bones, whiskers all ran off
nowhere to land,no way to gauge
'The doctor is in. He's ready to see us'
shuffling my feet over carpet patterned to hide stains of the past
I await a trite spew- delusions
concerning the falsity of pain of genius
will the future face other brick walls?
or poutine and wine and chinacat dolls?
most certainly both.