Imprisoned by Reality
A light shines through,
bright upon my face,
then quickly dissipates.
I blink blindly,
opening my eyes to find no trace
of familiarity,
just cracked, peeling paint,
dust upon the floor.
A musty smell fills my nose
when I take a breath.
I feel unwell,
the cold seeping deep into my bones.
I call out knowing
no one will answer, even
if they heard me screaming, groaning.
I call again and again,
'till dry air, rough
against my throat,
I sleep.
Hunger now gnaws at my abdomen,
waking me to my nightmare.
First anger rises within,
filling my chest with a fiery heat,
“How dare they do this,
and to me!”
But anger soon recedes,
its void filled by desolate,
nagging emptiness and hopelessness.
I lay looking up,
cold, hard floor against my back.
I lay looking up,
seeing only dark corners.
I breath in the stench,
the great stench of rot
that fills the air now,
(I do not know when it got there)
I hear my breath;
in, out, in, out.
A chip in the stone,
no life here can sprout.
My mind ebbs, in, out
like the breaths I breathe.
A breeze rustles leaves
of great rough-barked trees.
The grass sways along with my breath.
The sky so blue,
birds sing songs so lovely
they make me want to sing too.
I hear whispers
from across the green.
I look, but see no one,
just my thriving meadow.
In despair I watch as
the clouds quickly turn gray,
the grass dies,
leaves fall from trees, astray.
Then there is stone,
grey and cold.
My back aches from the hard floor,
the rotten filth fills my lungs.
I feel myself slipping,
my life slowly creeping
away, like the roach in the corner.
The meadow reforms suddenly,
just as it was before.
Now my breaths I know not to trust.
I see the greenery, trees,
I smell the freshness,
I hear the whistling birds;
it’s beautiful.
I walk into the
woods at the edge
and leave it for another’s consciousness.
(2011)
#Prisoner