There’s a doorway where I live;

A portal to worlds undiscovered,

Unpolluted by the suffocating stagnant air

That circles and loops back over

Like laces, to tether souls inside

It’s oppressive and liberating grasp.


Held tight inside

By the arms of an introverted escapism;

Cavernous crevices

Holding back nemeses

Lurking without.


There’s a doorway where I stay;

A portal to lands free and far,

Resistant to the oppressive atmosphere within

That forms like a noose

To hang framed and faded portraits

Of journeys never undertaken.


Steadfast its resolve

To hold me in place in hopeless inaction;

Ruinous repetition

To dampen ambition

Flared only outwith.


There’s a doorway where I lay;

What lies beyond, I cannot say:

Fantasy folded, fractures of futures twisted

Into infinity – branches of possibility

Left to rot, unnurtured or ignored;

At least in solitude, I’ll always be adored.

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