A prison does not need walls—
walls are expensive,
heavy-lifting things cost too much—
we have a better plan.

Slip them between the lines
of a contract they never signed,
bind them in fine print,
wrap them in a sentence
with no punctuation.

Easy to catch them—
tree huggers and nature lovers,
prose-chanting marginal misfits.
Catch them all—
with screens,
blue light,
and keystrokes—
map their dreams before
they even sleep.

This is how we do it—
not with chains,
but with slow grind
and mental erosion.

We will file them down,
soften them into compliance,
they do not need bars—
hell, and a toothpick,
we don’t even need to pay for guards
their ripe minds will build cages
when we stick them
in a pixel or
paper prison.

Yes, Prime Minister,
we will get right on it, sir.