Secret Stash - F.S. Blumm

They steal the blue

They steal the green

They rob my view and

They rob my scene

It’s catching up

It’s closing in

The walls come closing in

They build a canyon in my hood

And leave no air to breathe

They’re piling boxes and don’t keep

No space where we unfold

We need a niche

A place to keep

To bring our secrets

Hide our dreams

Develop doubts

Uncertainty

And carve a little time

The uncontrollable we need

And inefficiency

Out of the blue

Into the blue

And carve a little time

Carve out a little time

A nonplace

A waste land

A shot in the dark

A hideout

A vague spot

A float to embark