there is a
songbird
outside my
hotel window
softly trilling
a song of
spring blooming
contrasting
the drab gray
walls of my
prison for
the next week

hotel mania
a sort of
agoraphobic
madness keeping
me in a fury
of unchained
emotion
bouncing ideas
off a ceiling
feigning cool
disinterest

i am
envious
of those
lucky few
unrestrained
unshackled
to madness
in the same
way i cannot
quite imagine
being even

yearning for
the grass to
truly be
greener but
knowing we
are all lost
in a labyrinth
of our own
flawed design
figuring out
how to maintain
an illusion of
keeping it
together as
we fall apart

there is a
songbird
somewhere
singing of
spring blossoming

if you listen
closely
it sings
just for you