I can't find a wall to pin this to.*

I'm quite partial to walls.

Mine are blue.
Yours are black. I saw the picture
of the face you painted.
It glistened as it slid down the wall, unaffected in its liquid state.

I had an image of you sliding down that wall too. Mentally, mind you. You'd never actually
let me see you.
Completely affected. I know how you are.

The posters are peeling now. They've been forgotten in your dizzy haze.
You never open the curtains, they hang listless in your wake.
It's hard to discern night from day lately.
In the unmade mess of your tangled sheets I see you sleep.
Troubled.
How I wish I could save you.
You have your walls though.
Solid, comforting.
I have mine too.
Maybe thats the problem.

We need doors, and windows and a better metaphor.

-----

i found a note i had written a year ago : i remember writing it. Sitting outside the science block, one of my last remaining free periods. staring out at the quadrangle, at the place that had been home for 6 years.
-----


Sorry- if i left you
hanging

it wasn't intentional-
if i bit your pretty heart in two
into a thousand shards.
you're like the wall behind me-
cold among other things.

i would collect you if i could.
paint you 40 shades of content.
what happens in the heart simply happens.he said. i wish i had listened.

how do they stay up there? floating. as if they dont fully exist- an opaque impression of life.

i want to remember this
the sky, the grass-
so symmetrical as if its trying to live up to some imagined expectation. the gum-stained concrete, the cage-like canteen.

the lack of lockers, soap, toilet paper.
the abundance of insults, loyalty and adolescence.

the garbage bins painted varying shades of mustard yellow and apple green. deformed attempts of a cylinder. trying to prve they were once something special.
the corridors that stretch and echo with shouts and steps.
the familiar variations of songs rolling out of the music rooms. the pathetic absence of air-conditioning, the lurid sports uniform.

the sounds, the smells of every other grade, of understanding, of a new day.
the people who know me, accept me, acknowledge me. I like having somewhere to go, i like knowing what im doing, where i am. i like the comfort and constancy of fitting somewhere. I want to see every part of this place that has encapsulated my being for six years.

--------

School
had walls that were so perfect i was afraid to leave them, to even look beyond them. I did though.

I have new walls now. Not so familiar. i dont love them as much. enough.
the walls keep changing and moving and i have this feeling that one day soon i may have no walls at all.


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* i can't find a wall to pin this to because it has no category. i can make neither head nor tail of it.
disregard its nonsensicality.
antidisestablishmentarianism.