generations

it's too late.
my thoughts,
my prayers,
my dirt
has already been splattered
on the bone white walls
of this apartment.

i pace this apartment
in circles
and in linear lines
waiting for the next kingdom
to come,
but it's never here.

the neighbors
down below
probably want to destroy me,
and i have my feet
and mouth as evidence.

and i know
that i'll never walk
these hardwood floors
in less
than a matter of years.

i know
that another girl
is preparing for me
in the distance.

i can see my face
in the gleam
of her knife.

eventually
i won't live here anymore,
and then i will dwell
in a place
where the walls
have been scrubbed dry
one more time.