The Wait For My Time

I live in a wall, tangled with power
lines and electrical tape and
left over varnish
for my teeth to gleam
with no source of light.

I live in a wall and eat
sawdust from my vaporized
bones. I drink myself
drunk, for my skin ferments into
sale-rack wine.

I live in a wall, I speak to
no others but I hear all
sounds and interrupt all
phenomena with careful
indecision.

I live in a wall, where I
sleep like a pendulum.
Never choosing right or left,
but forward, if I could
if my wall was not in front.

I live in a wall, where no mouse is stirring
hiding my biological face from scientific analyses
for I fear,
that my wall does not exist.