Ode To The Ole Cage

We were in that old place.

You know the one with the doors that wouldn’t shut easily so you’d need to give a good shove? I’d mostly kick it real hard at the bottom corner.

And when the doors finally got shut it was just as difficult to get them open.

It was the old place with the neighbors that wouldn’t stop screaming and blasting their music and fucking and fighting about all sorts of fuck.

It was that space in between the walls with all the beautifully useless stuff cramming everything all together.

It was the one that developed dents, scuffs, and bruises of all sorts from the two few that grew scars, love, and would quench impossible desires with fallout debris and lukewarm whiskey.

It was the place I drank myself to smithereens and pissed off the balcony.

It was where I decided to bide my time.

It’s the place that bought us for fools.

It’s the one we’re leaving in search for greater mansions of mind.