*I awake in a strange bed.
No longer in the ***** dark basement.
Hair has been braided.
I am wearing a long white nightie.
I smell bacon.
Teasing me.
Luring me.
Not one of you done anything.
You just sat and watched.
Is this representative of what it is to be a Poet?
You are horrid people.
I don’t even know why I am on here.
I guess it’s because this is what he wants.
He wants to break my spirit.
He knows that you will not help me.
That pleases him.
There is a gentle knock at the bedroom door.
I lie back down and feign sleep.
Quietly the door opens.
I awake in a strange bed.*
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC
*I awake in a strange bed.
No longer in the ***** dark basement.
Hair has been braided.
I am wearing a long white nightie.
I smell bacon.
Teasing me.
Luring me.
Not one of you done anything.
You just sat and watched.
Is this representative of what it is to be a Poet?
You are horrid people.
I don’t even know why I am on here.
I guess it’s because this is what he wants.
He wants to break my spirit.
He knows that you will not help me.
That pleases him.
There is a gentle knock at the bedroom door.
I lie back down and feign sleep.
Quietly the door opens.
I awake in a strange bed.*