Where are the prisoners?
Where are the guards?
Watching. Ever watching.

Light floods this cubicle, and
Shadows entangle themselves in my sheets, while
The omnipresent and intangible eye gazes.

Devoid of visibility, only
The gloom confides in me.
The power of perfection entrapped in a hoop.

Our ring encircles the guardian, who
Is invariably stalking.  Plagued
Are the confined and deserted lepers.

But what of the locks?
Locks?  The tower is our bolt.
The eye will find the madman.

Madness is also our disease,
Guilt triumphs over futile attempts, the
Belief is our ideology.

Indisputable solidity becomes imaginary, while
The goal is communal. We must,
Survive in a personal Panopticon.

How long did you lie there?
Crumpled like discarded waste
Slowly decaying into ash, so
Putrid not even the vultures dare feast.

Did you wait with your body?
Slowly seeping from soft flesh,
Not yet ready to relinquish your grip,
Little fleshy slugs coiling up;
Their heads peaking sideways.

Hands clasp, molding tissue.
Clay so susceptible to indentations,
Yet you had never recognized,
How faulty these compressions are.

How did you realize?
Symmetrical bone understands
What she never will
One palm embraces another,
Knows what hers cannot.

Are we made to intertwine?
When she found you, we waited.
Placing those worms amongst the dirt,
But you found no comfort.

Maggots deliver messages
But the larva is poor with snail mail.
So let go.  
Time to understand has long passed.

Spears aviate above our gaze.
Souls begin to depart
Encompassing our moment,
But it is slipping, as is my reality,
As is your consciousness

I had known the depths of ocean.
Understood every numinous word.
Prepared my death and planned my life.
Each question accompanied by a definite answer.

But in those speckles of green,
Cryptic water flowed into my ocean,
Spilling over the barriers,
Rushing into the fields of grain,
Carrying unknown parasites wanting to feed.

Sliced.
I knew this sound, this feeling,
The blood that would spill,
But your skin agitates my pulse.

A tenderness that I had destroyed,
That I can never experience.
I will never known those hands,
Or call them my own.
I have created my own demise.

Metal continuously clashed,
Yet I lay watching your somber departure
Envisioning a hopeless unison that could never arise,
An act the devil had surely commissioned.

Your raven hair fluttered,
And I closed those eyes.
Eyes that have become ingrained
A permanent scar, stemmed from intolerance.
A never-ending history repeats.

My torturous fate solely seduces.
Muse, but never mate.
Dragged ashore, escaped from destiny,
To love each wounded scar.

Desire taunts curiosity, whilst love encumbers mine.
Seven years kept prisoner on the isle of endless past,
Each sensual diversion masks the drifting time,
Each embrace marks my eternal days.

Devotion flits from his somber eyes
Spirituality melting by the hour
Our interrupted unison ensnared in glances,
Past this pleading stare.

My hands built your vessel and fed your bones.
My fingertips launched the ship.
Yet I am left the sole prisoner,
Entrapped in immortality.

Poison eradicates flesh, though this hand is not of flesh.
Fire purges bone, though this hand is not of bone.
I remain the true prisoner.
Muse, but never mate.