Osmosis

Man outside my window

lives my outside life,

trapping me within

my fishnet boundaries.

The skeleton of his soul

stands in piles

of cigarette butts

crunching underfoot.

The man was I

and I was he -

osmosis through glass

as I shut the window,

leaving a borderline crack

to squeeze to other side

of life, prying eyes open

to see my exterior man,

drawing face to glass

to behold the inner workings

of his buried thoughts,

begging to be confined

within his outlines

to entwine

inside his body

of sweeping darkness.