i hear the waking world
but my heart stammers
outraged at the sameness
as it recognizes things
the mind lets accumulate
a prison is a prison
if the walls are made of
concrete or from flesh itself
and i have a spoon and a
lifetime sentence in solitary
to try and find a way out
digging my way through
the variant strata between
tortured dreams and an
inability to find any rest
a constant state of refusal
to accept the things forced
onto me as societal norms
when i am just a clumsy
timebomb sloppily wired
ticking my way to oblivion
only to wake each time
the timer strikes zero
an amateur self saboteur
soldering new leads to an
old heart in an effort to
breathe new life into this
festering corpse of languish
stuck with half remembered
dreamshards in a condition
where the things that i
cannot change are linked on
a genetic level to all of
the things i refuse to
contemplate accepting as
i stagger down the uneven
hallways in near darkness
unsheveled and unprepared
yet knowing by the steady
thump that echoes my out of
time heartbeat from just
up ahead of the air hammer
about to kiss my sore head
that all of this incalculable
flux is just reminders how
there is no meaning in life
just a steady decline until
the person we once portrayed
is a memory floating along
the electrified soup sloshing
in cranial prisons building
devices of self destruction
to escape the sameness that
haunts every moment in which
you do not lay in my embrace

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