This house is a machine that I don’t understand
I just live inside it and hope it won’t kill me.
Wires and windows, lighting and concrete,
and piles of blueprints built on monuments and seeds.
Someone I’ve never met built where I put my bed and that scares me to death.
There are corners of the room I’ve never been to.
They could house anything, like currents of symmetry.
Every exit is an entrance and all the clocks are wrong.
If I could say that all these things make me afraid of everything.