Shut In

Shut In

Littering the years ahead,
Collection of embellishment,
Vines caress thine whim,
While decreasing your movement.

Row upon frivilous row,
Fragility stacked in nest,
Decorative fancy down-pour,
In unchanging rest,

A lump of petrified soil,
Set down somewhere,
Amongst the anthills,
Termites avoid your crater.

Even when the rain falls,
the poisons seeping through,
to the fertile upsurge,
killing hopes of any root growth.

Ever detatched like the legs,
left when you decided,
to shut yourself in with,
yearning for modernity.
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