To be imprisoned…to be trapped in a cold, empty cell with no one but yourself for company. As time loses its meaning, so does the mind wander through labyrinths, expecting nothing, seeking nothing, only wandering through a darkness deeper than night. An empty kettle in which all manner of things boil – the quiet hiss of hidden fears, the mocking laughter and rolling tears, silence black and thick as death, choking, creeping, slowly circling this cauldron where sickness brews. The mind entwines this kettle, too, flashing colors red to blue, panic fleeing, welcomes ringing – the capture ends in one last embrace.
To Be Imprisoned
September 16, 2009