The Room

The lights annoy me
they hum, the light they give out is weak
and the switch is broken, hanging free.
I feel the place was wired up by the owner,
When I plug something into a power outlet,
I see a bright white flash, a deadly threat.

I look at her pictures
over and over again,
between clothes I have hung inside on various fixtures
because it has rained for days
They dry slowly, filling the room with dampness and haze.

The lights humming
the air thick and damp
the neighbours music drumming
a sad sharp noise in my ear.
Time is flying, nearing the end of a year.

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