[Rooms] a poem

This was always someone else’s room,
mine, is that room with no room,
a roam into a structure that
shall never give up its place of
obstacle-
& the superstructure, the one
I’ve imposed on myself,
had long preceded the former,
that vacant circle in that
unnamed Romanian forest
said to abduct the living into
the outer realm
this life is only tragic
inasmuch this life is to end;
the superstructure crumbles
with the dimming light,
the blights of stains in this room
will not be removed
this is not my room


Dontrell Lovet't
from, [The Paper Womb II]