AXND

AXND

When he wakes, the shafts of jilted
light slipping
past the drawn shades tell him
it is already late morning
strained sunlight is his timepiece

Against the whitewashed bedroom wall
in restless slumber
the rain and the butterfly he
dismissed as a lingering dream
stir

He needs answers and he needs them
Soon

His footsteps echo so loudly
he wonders why he has never noticed the
amplified acoustics of the
cement corridor

He trails across razors and broken
wings
on his way down the stairs