The Walls are Permeable

The walls are permeable
people, thoughts, ideas
who has walked this floor 
who will sit in this room
listening to the sound of the rain
the constant sound of the highway
just noise, ever moving
just white noise, indistinguishable
yet, in every car sits a human being
waiting, able to be touched
I reach out with the finger of my mind
where are you going, why?
I sit here, preparing for bed, alone
quiet, and yet, you, where do you go?
My room, soft and white
indistinguishably invaded by millions.

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