I know I'm home and I'm not alone
sick inside cuz the wounds at the bone my friend
such a strange feeling getting to me
I contradict every thought that I have

A special friend blending words in my head
Secret to the trend is make everything feel threatening
Driving through the fog with my brights on
As the lights pass by I get mystified

I'm too big for the room I'm in
Am I wrong or maybe it's actually my skin
I'm going to rip apart this reality
and peel back the shades that have came to cover me

Staring out like I'm in a cell
In and out like a raging swell
I can say that I'm happy with the ones I love
Though I'm scared to go outside and lose comfort in the shelter

“Normality” people cry
And I can’t help but ask
Why?
A slave to the wage
Already trapped in a cage
What is it about life before
That you are all grieving so much for?
The freedom of which you speak
Having to book a holiday for a ******* week

Yes I miss a warm embrace
I want him here kissing my face
Technology overload
So ***** I’ll explode
Yet somehow I know
That back to ‘normal’
Is not where I want to go

When this is over
You’ll book that holiday
And take the next flight
To some far away place
To have the same sun
On your face
Then back to your cage
A slave to the wage

This simulation was not a success
Mother Nature cries
You’re all a ******* mess
She’s given you a chance
A time to pause
To reflect
To ponder
To dream
Yet you dare not ask
What does all this mean?

Do you sit there and wait
For world leaders
To decide your fate?
Will you choose to do good?
To have compassion for those
Where isolation is all they know?
Locked away behind bars
With their trauma and their scars
Out of site
Out of mind
They’ve been left behind

When this is over
I’ll ask myself the question
What do I yearn for?
And the answer will be
As it’s always has been
Freedom
From normality

In prison
when you have no
money, and you can't
buy commissary, and
the hours and the days drag by
like a tortoise searching
a garden.
It's the little things that
make the time bearable.
Someone gives you a package of
noodles or a cup of coffee,
or a bar of good soap.
Kindness in hell goes a long way.
It's the simple pleasures that
I took for granted
that I relish now:
Steaming hot water,
a bed with a real mattress,
and a library with thousands
of books to read.
I have writing paper,
ink pens, and reading glasses to
see with; it could be worse.

I'm in this place a prison
of homely comforts,
that
cut upon the wrists
                           of  
          
                             my sanity.

I used to see the walls as collages
of happier times.
Now I just put lines of
                   I I I I I I the seventh
is my reality that I'll just start
                                 a new one.

They look like I, I need, I want
but never getting past the I...

As I know I'm in here for the sentence
             of security and life.

                          But,

why do I have to do it in solitary confinement,



I'm                   so                         lonely...

Stealthily,
dressed in black,
late at night,
wearing a mask,
I will steal
the guard keys
from the wall,
opening the cells
one by one,
letting out all
the hidden,
forgotten, and
wasted talent--
the painters,
the poets,
the rappers,
the cartoonists.
Together as an
unlikely union,
a mismatched clan,
we will show
the world
just how much
potential has
been unjustly
locked away.

Judgement is our prison:
     the bars, lock, and key.
As we build its walls higher,
     our perspective grows smaller
Until our confines of Measure
​     become all we can see.

"This is a collect call from: 'Darlene Ryder', at the Nielsen County Sheriff's Department, press '2' to accept charges and be connected."

beep

"hello? Bill?...you there?"
"**** Darlene, how many times we gotta ******' do this?!", he threw his voice at her through the phone like a fastball wrapped in firecrackers.
"I dint do nuthin' wrong! they jus got sumpn' against me s'all!"
"uh huh, the **** d'you do, huh?
"the ***** had it comin', I was jus tryin' to have a few 'n relax then she come 'n talk 'bout how I was lookn' atter funny but I watn't- I was jus mindin' my own talkin' to Charlie. So all's I need from you is to get yer lazy, belly-picken', beer-guzzlin' hole fer a face down here and unpinch this ******' mess!" and hung up the receiver on her end of prison.
      The guards shoot each other a look then raise their eyebrows.  They'll be recounting this over beers tonight beneath the monstrous glow of 47 90" TVs in between attempts at the waitress young enough to be their daughter.  They'll shovel in the wings of a total of 18 birds drowned in hot sauce and butter before the sports bar stops feeding them.  Then they'll all drive home drunk with hot breath and testosterone like molasses, ending their nightly routine with their ***** in their hands and their pants around their ankles drooling at tiny glowing screens.  
      Long live the American gods of New Olympus.

Watching from my window sill
I saw him walking, a lion in thrill
Streets shivering of his mighty shrill
On his call they come and fill
An army of dogs route march and drill.

Peeping through my window pane
A group of birds landing on the lane
Through which cars flown in train
Now laying like a snake in pain.

Prying eyes through melancholy windows
I saw spring sprouting fast in meadows
Nature dancing reviving lacking human shadows.

For bringing back her magical touches
As she strikes, one but all happily blushes.

Oh, dear mother, forgive your prodigal sons.

Awful calmth of streets in still
Sinking my spirits in silence they remain
Without the treading feet of two legged fellows
One and twenty days freed from his clutches
Nature will revive, but her sons fearfully in their prisons.