Written by Jacob Ibrag
Sometimes I walk to the corner of a room and
pretend to be part of it. I imagine the room infested
with people. These people all talking loudly about
nothing in particular. Talking away while the walls listen
and observe. I am this wall. I am their shelter. These
people all talking away while I hold this roof. This roof
weighing a ton. I am the wall holding this roof. This roof is
currently having an affair with gravity. I am this wall
that feels the weight. These people depositing their ears
into the void. Just listen to me bending. Listen to these
walls slowly closing in. This roof weighing a ton. I am
this wall. You are all in my head. Sometimes I walk to
the corner and pretend. Sometimes doesn’t exist.
I am this wall. Listen to me, whispering.