Designed to be just a place to sleep,
and store things.
Sometimes alone in that room,
and sometimes not.
The multi-leveled ceiling quickly taught,
not to stretch arms up.
Friends and enemies of all kinds,
some real and other dreamt.
There were things under the bed,
that lived on human flesh.
These creatures were deathly allergic to socks,
especially grey ones.
All my socks were grey.
Machines designed there,
powerful, world changing machines.
They were built of the finest Lego bricks,
often recycled for old designs.
Once a year it shifted to an ocean world,
Spring was always a pain.
Two or three quilts in Summer,
hardly a sheet in Winter.
Then a new furnace was installed.
Room mates lived and crawled everywhere,
except in the bed.
I killed those.
Many thousand doorways leading in and out,
only one if your mind was mudain.
Learning to live in silence and solitude,
down in the ends of the basement.
It was a place to leave reality behind,
and travel alone.
