loneliness has defined
this old soul.
Bittersweet melody
has tuned my way of
living.

I don't know how much
my heart could stand
the weight and wait
for that simple moment,
that single spark
to feel alive
and stop breathing
the ashen smog of reality.

i am a passenger
free to roam on the east sides
of redundancy and table manners

flower markets thrive on dawn skies
arranged as tourist spots
the baker's fair selling eggshells
cracked on cobblestone soup
meatpies sold out too soon
appleseeds scattered for birds

i sweep them all up
and see patterns grow on my skin

let it not be said i did not try, i did not do
for too soon the the heat covers the shade as well
and not even the acacia can go without thirst

fill my cup with honeydew milk
and add bittergourd and salt

i can let philistine warriors come from the backroads
and enter the frontlines
if only to join you

I am always in solitary confinement:
Just me, in my body, with a vague yet distant
Presence of others

Can't even join the
        rat race

Lonely, sitting here
          caged.

Endless static rattles my confined domain
home to voices familiar--
always unwelcome.

Prolonged imprisonment; desperation
yields these chains not of mass.
Mere figments they are.

Are the screens and their unintelligible,
motioned illusions abstract enough
to conjure a new image
to obsess over?

Nay, I remain tranced, ridden
in dismay.  No fulfillment.

Every image I decipher
escapes with the last.

Will trickling like icicles
before summer's Sun.

Subject I forever am to
this sadistic therapy.

i dreamt of birds
in a large cage
that appeared red, green, yellow, blue, or pink?
seemingly disturbed by something
that i thought they needed to escape

a moment later i felt something dropped on me in my dream
as i opened my eyes in this dream
i saw one of the birds on me
one that would die

it was unclear what this meant
but i felt there were too many birds in that cage
had i not awaken from this dream
i would have opened the cage and set them free

Every day I tally my days in this jail cell
Counting the days I’ve been in this solitude
Counting the days ‘til I’ll be set free
I’ve been seeing angels on the walls and devils in my brains

Counting the days I’ve been in this solitude
I’ve counted my fingers so many times it’s no longer ten
I’ve been seeing devils on the walls and angels in my brains
And the flowers I’ve planted grow from this concrete flooring

I’ve counted my fingers so many times it’s no longer eleven
But the guards lost my key; and the only escape
Are the flowers that grow from this concrete flooring
So I drown them in the thoughts I see.

The guards lost my key, and my only escape
Is lost in my insanity.
And I drown myself in the thoughts I see
Still wondering when I’ll be set free

I’m lost in this insanity
Counting the days I’ve been in this solitude
Still wondering when I’ll be set free
And tallying my days I’ve spent in this jail cell.

Pride is a must, essential to guard

The Soul Within you claim your own.

Vanity, a replacement, an alter ego

To depend and rely prior

The True Self is known.

You are compelled to construct

a man made core to revolt

Around to contain your thoughts,

your feelings or else—

your heart shall rust.

Then living will no longer be

possible for you, are blinded.

You can't see, you cannot seek

yourself in your fear.

Confined and so you had to pretend

to put up a facade, a mask a tent.

Untaught of the fickle you must believe

in the dark, the unknown, mysterious

*Shadow.

These stretch marks are signs
that my soul is confined.