there are not four walls.
there are no gates,
nor hedges,
nor bricks.
yet, i find myself
undeniably and demeaningly so
    trapped.

this state of drowsiness
is not something
i awoke to,
but rather something
i slipped into
to get comfortable whilst awaiting
     death.

i wake and
i fall as anyone else might, but
i do not inhale the gusts of warmth,
nor cringe at the bitter drops
     of sky against my tongue.

an empty shell is all
i can imagine myself to be.
these curiosities and
these expectancies
were once mine, but drifted away.
their trail is buried in the ashes
     of an old dream.

i'd like more than anything to
feel your gentle pulse against mine, but
i determine this heart unworthy,
since each beat has become a part
    of this fated hell.