The Loft

I converted my loft
For storage this June
And on its completion I connected
With this superior room

It seemed to forbear
All my deepest coverts
My second guess hang ups
My untimely immerse

The ladder it straddled
More than a pragamtic connection
It caused impersonal dialogue
And selective reflection

Some days I would loiter
At the foot of the round
Unable to lift
My shoe from the ground

Some days I would float
Past the rungs to the space
Where time moved in reciprocating motion
Around a locationless place

I kept the lights darkened
And the temperature low
Conditions conducive
To let myself go

To houses of strangers
Drinking into the night
With people I recognised
Through feelings not sight

Unbeknownst to my conscious
Cursed by intrigue overfed
I had morphed a world void
I was unhitched at the head

The hours were there
They left and came back
The colours collided
In rafter spaces of black

All sound was static
A tangible grout
That sealed my cranial spaces
No in and no out

The conversations I entered
The feelings I felt
Turned my skeleton languid
My muscles to melt

When emergence was done
And I true-visioned once more
I crawled back to the hatch
My ethereal door

As I lowered my carcass
Back to my old life again
I encomassed reality
A new phenomena of men