Closed by the spider’s canvas in the corner
it only sees gray days.
Feeling no justice is more frustrating
than the pain of isolation,
the longing to be free.

Evenings are quiet
fall over out of order things,
sunsets remain beautiful
and poetic.

Everything seems an occurrence
but escapes are impossible
as in a rotisserie of time
where you can not escape from,

death is the last hope.