It’s All in Your Head

Captive, I press against the bars –

Screaming

In agony of imprisonment.

But, just as often, giving up;

Huddling against the far wall,

Ignoring the tray of rations shoved timidly into my cell.

They are stale bread and watery soup, I tell myself.

I tell myself everything;

Sobbing, always sobbing.

The world outside, super-bright; the

Unreal reality; the

Too loud

Too painful

Too much to bear

Arena of sensation.

And so I stay,

Telling myself (again) and the few passersby

I want escape.

But

Really

Crawling desperately back to its stinking familiarity

To stand again at the bars

In comforting darkness

And only give audience to fellow prisoners

Echoing my lies.

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