Long Story Short

Long Story Short it's the room over there whose yellow walls and chrome framed chairs keep ringing like a phone no one will answer somewhere the button is pushed a door slowly obeys the strong magnetic pull and opens someone calls me mister from the yellow ringing room and the door is swinging slowly back a drop of silence slips past the soft metallic click through the walls the trees the growing distance in this hard geometric place my life is a dot floating without mass or dimension a thought waiting for the words to arrive death is the cause of my rebirth