The Point And You

You and the point you were making had a good thing going once, back in the ten minutes ago times when the walls didn't exist. But then they grew, and grew more relevant then the point and you, and now they've gotten so tall they threaten to buckle under their own weight. So tall they've passed the ceiling, where so many eyes have rolled, it would behoove you to hang the pictures there...
But the point...
We're at a point where anyone who cared would've grabbed you by the arm and taken you to a downtown place with laughing and dancing, but the walls grab my attention as they menacingly loom, and my mind wanders to thoughts of the tallest ladder, and you, the climber who washes the windows at the top, with a team of ladder holders who walkie-talkie you, "Everything's ok, don't worry about the sway,"
And your ladder's so tall that they don't know you've been falling all day
And I'm at the point where I can't see the point for the walls, and you're the sillhouette behind the point, trying to poke it through...