Floating in an expanse, trapped in a room
the walls could be the ends of a universe,
or a martyr's doom,
and I count the atoms of its shifting embrace
it dances within sight, but ever out of reach
truer things have never been more curious
the walls are my castaway beach.

Endless journeys coil within me,
my mind is a boundless jungle:
the predators linger in hazy umbra,
while the prey lazily graze
with eyes diametrically opposed.
I am some sort of misshapen construct,
a being lost to himself, but a target nonetheless.

****** into the deep
from which secrets sweetly seep
I find answers to keep
demystifying puzzles caged by sleep
the malice in this wonderland
nibbles at the soul with perilous teeth
just to taste the suffering
of a man who's trapped beneath
beneath the undergrowth of the city
within the fissures of a sidewalk
betwixt the folds of a chewing gum wrapper
he is gnawed by the everafter,
the what if,
the may be,
maybe.

Perchance he truly listened to the bright void
oh, how it oozes soft, eldritch light
the essences of somber dealings with ethereal misfits,
whatsay he consumed the knowledge whose
questions
once consumed him?

We all imagine that he would be
empty of emptiness...
but is there such a thing?

Warehouse, prison, laboratory,
Come and listen to my story,
Facilities in all their glory,
Just don't cross the territory...

Just be cautious, not combined...
Our anomalies, confined,
Your work will save all humankind.

I was twelve years old when I got arrested, they brought me to the cells and took my mugshot… reminding me that I will never be free.
I learned when to speak.
Only when you're asked,
never put your head up,
don't you dare share an opinion, even if it's in class.
I learned that my life…
Was never truly mine to begin with. Just something another person can use at their whim, then dispose of.
I was twelve years old the first time I got arrested. They put me in cold metal cuffs and threw the key into rivers of tears I have yet to shed, but will come.
I was twelve years old the first time that I was arrested. My life looked bleak and I could no longer speak because my mind was not my own.
The took a permanent felt tip marker and wrote their names on me.
I was twelve years old the first time I was forced to be something I'm not. I was tortured until they found what they wanted. They proceed to shackle me with trends to follow, cover me in my prison uniform of tight skirts and crop tops, and read me my rights. Though it's clear to me now that i have none
I was twelve years old the first time I got arrested.
Change the laws and let us free. Let me once again know what sunlight feels like upon my shoulders without the restraints of people trying to diminish difference in the world, when all I wish to do is preserve it.
I was twelve the first time I was arrested….
I was charged with the act of being myself, and sentenced to life without parole.