2074: Panic Rooms

I do not enter my son’s room
these days – I do not want to
trip on his uneven threshold
of split & twisted obligations

My memory seeps – spoilt by
overfilling – a neoteric recall
of selfish acts (easy fuck-ups
by easy others) & my need to

turn myself from ugly sneers
of loathly people (wide welts
on their hateful faces) – No – I
will not miss embarrassment

of teenage chaos – it is only a
phase – until he also escapes
from a box room to live alone
[to sidestep his compression]

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