in my room
pothos boisters turquoise 
so I do not collapse
under background noise 
deafened by demure delights in
ceramic bowl envelopment—
 
In this safe space
stored armaments below inside
not metallic for killing
but loam for living
and a light
given to those who enter—
 
step inside
between green vines
seeking eyes find how’s for why’s 
it was really never so complex
just an ache for what comes next
loving data sets over intimacy—
 
in this room
where soft music fills
potted pothos and myself are healed
all killing tools are reshaped
all enemies expunged
and I open the door at last