i can't talk with a wall, but to a wall that
adheres no more than a rock. that stands still
and has no intention, but to maintain an image
of robust reclusion. without an ajar opening, i
can't attend to its other side, that gets stained
with ink and pressurized. i can only stand as
still with a wall, but not as me, as something
that grows and climbs over it, as a non-living
thing.