A fixed persepctive

A fixed perspective

I sit within the portait tall
Waiting for a porters call
To take the silence away
For a sound at all I pray

People come by day and stare
By night the corridor is bare
No pattered footsteps or feeble voices
Across the dancefloor&;#8230;I have no choices

To look from my paintbox diary
From a broken monarch.smiling
In this fixed place I stay morose
In my living comatose

All that's left of my autonomy
Is a fucking portrait for all to see
To stare down at those faces
To feel the need to see other places

To see what lies beyond these walls
No one ever hears my calls
To see, to breathe the sigh of the night
Swelling, sinking,with dawn in sight

As the sun drifts across the floor
And settles on me, like bygone lore
Its not the death I mind the most
Just my waking comatose