too hard to mention
what is it that makes me feel
like chewed up rubber
glued to the roof
there is a cage
sometimes it is a wall
ceilings with stucco
like clouds that don't shift
single pane windows
that let in a draft
and i feel the cage in
open space
when I am resting in the green
pine carpet and birch wallpaper
i feel the cage at the theatre
the sounds of shoes on concrete
sound freer than my luxurious box seat
then there is the distillery
a factory my mind has formed
to filter pleasure from profanity
the vapours and droplets
are pure and translucent
but they show my face a smile
i am a thin wire
twisted
an antenna
a vessel
rust on a tugboat
bronze dust
a velcro lasso
a scuff on his chin
a carrier pigeon with nothing to say
and page
my greatest friend
you too
are just another box
to lock myself within
a coffin
where i lie
underground
to be found or to die
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