The Walls

after The 10547th Apartment, artist Osnat Tzadok

drip with the blood of ghosts
who have rented this cell before.
I can feel their eyes, straining
to break free of anonymous
wallpaper, beige. Tattered carpet
matches the inexpressiveness,
the mood lingers, whispers
in my ear. This is all you will become.
I cover my head
with a blanket I do not remember
buying. I am already losing
this life-war of attrition. Tomorrow,
I will be nothing but a dust pattern,
a footprint fading, swept off
the balcony without applause.