The Deal

The walls of my room have held

the strangest of secrets for a while. 

The windows know all sullen horizons

through the boulevard of time. 

For years, 

I have been trying to capture my life

around the ghettos of pen and paper;

the syllables I yield with my blood

weigh the heaviest 

when put on my soul, 

and lightest when 

put on the internet. 

The roof over my head witnesses

my untamed solitude put to serene pages

over and over again;

it resides in the

moment and in retrospect. 

Someone knocks

at my door 

and calls for a deal

while others watch from

down the lane 

for them—

it’s a saga 

from alphabets to pages

for me—

it’s a war 

from life and beyond death.