Self Inflicted Prison

Hanging in a fog
of emptiness,
full of an unknown desire
to scream;
a heart beats fleetingly.

The weight of brick
crushing, enslaving
the tiresome creature
called man;
locking him
inside his prison.

Eyes senselessly pool
in sockets too small
to care,
forced down
he is enraged . . . 
trapped in walls
too steep to climb.

His life locked
in lifeless hands,
his soul lost
to the cursed,
to the dead
and to the damned.

He lay helplessly
in the dense air
dying,
dear god, dying
in that fog of
emptiness;
cold and bitter,
alone.

Written: October 10, 2010
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2 thoughts on “Self Inflicted Prison

  1. I don't know why so much of your poetry can resonate with me so easily, but I love it. I wonder if I'll actually be able to escape my own self inflicted prison.

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  2. Hi Mark. I'm glad you find so many of my poems to your liking! When I wrote this one I pictured a man deep in a cell with high grey walls and a cement bench to sit upon – then the poem came. 🙂

    Like

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