isolation

if it were only silent
the maddening would be pure
instead, the tap dancing of her day upon my eardrums
chimes wildly upon my mind 

abandoned and helpless in my dark tiny space
the padlock tucks me away
in earshot of her morning, noon and supper
it is the click of her table lamp that torments most

an eight hour stretch of preprogrammed sonics
aimed to keep me awake, aroused, and desperate
constant reminders of my predicament
as if they were needed

when the sonics stop
like a morning silence alarm
i know she is up
and about, and possibly with the key to my container

i hear walking near
and assure that i am at peak arousal just in case
but her footsteps pass
and i hear the shower begin its fresh caress upon her

one might think bizarre to endure such mind sucking torment
but to see the shape of her thigh
growing into a calf and resting in heels
desires for even a smaller closet breed

-poetrician