Depression

I would like, I believe, to be a hole in a wall
a small hole not a crack not a mouse-hole
or a fist-smashed-through hole
not a keyhole or a knothole
certainly not a peephole
or a pinhole – too subject to use,
too purposeful

I do not care what kind of wall
if plasterboard or concrete
or mortar and brick
they are just as cold as each other
and fulfill the same function
of sheltering and delineation
which are sometimes one and the same

I would like to just be a hole
the negative reverse of being
like a donut hole is the negative reverse
of donuts, except that donut holes
carry too much weight as a concept
for my liking
are an integral part of a whole

I would like to be a hole and nothing but
not wide enough for the finger
of a small scared Flemish child to fit through
I would like something like wind
to whisper on the other side of me
not words at all just wind
and maybe when you listen closer even that’s uncertain

I would like you to put an eye to me
and look straight through
into the unfathomable useless darkness
that exists in the space between one side of a wall
and the other
and see nothing
a blank darkness without feeling

not anger not frustation not sadness
just this blank emptiness which goes on forever
and ever, world without end
inside every wall that’s ever been built
between us both, surrounding us
waiting patiently like locusts in winter
for a crack

That is what I would like you to see.