Words From The Infinity...

Break-in...

When I meet a stranger for the first time,
I unconsciously imagine the kind of house
in which they might live: their rooms, their walls -
the feel, the light.

You for the stranger
House with the pain
You are the blood
Flowing through my vein.

And while I chat to them
in the real world
under the glare of trust's teeth
I ghost about their house.

They don't notice that
my shadow slowly becomes a question
to which I am no longer the answer.
That's because I've found a way inside and
I am mapless, off the grid.

The dark shapes of the stranger's room emerge
bleeding and blotching into shape
as I finger-printlessly ransack their rooms
open drawers, cupboards
feather through pools of light,
case their joint.

In fact,
I'm in your home acrossing the house
Right now...