Prison

Sat, 03/13/2021 - 15:27 -- Selz

Who brought me to this prison?
"I brought myself."
Who's going to free me from this prison?
"I can't do that myself."

Dependence, the buzzing in my ears, the hours of insomnia
Staring at the deserted terrace.
The fresh green leaves of Spring, the white dresses, the stringless classical guitar that still
Spits out a couple of sad melodies.
A blowjob while the others were meditating, an unexpected kiss, my hands busy with repairs.
We the unwanted, we the forgotten—

What have we done to you?
"We have but existed."
What can we do for you?
"We can only try."

Buildings replace trees here; an ocean of grey inhabited by violent fish (hence the bars) and
The ever-present danger of monstrous divers (hence the locks)—
Funny, since the last time I heard them murmuring we were the violent monsters. . . .
From time to time the wardens give me a cigarette, I smoke it and pray it will last;
I gift it to my comrades and achieve praise, lighting it with an old heater—
Days are no more: we measure the time in cigarette butts; ten means it's early in the morning,
Fifty indicates lunch, a hundred proves everything is still the same,
A thousand says it's time for bed, a thousand and one makes me want to press my face against my pillow.

Why did you trap us here?
"We may have sinned."
What are our sins?
"We have but existed . . .
We have but existed."

2020.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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