i was captured and locked away

i am a prisoner of war

my reckless stupidity and naivety

grabs my hair sending me flying

i can feel the gypsum board crack

it reverberates through all of me

i feel hands squeezing my throat

squeezing tighter and tighter

like trying to get blood from a stone

my lips turning blue and a smile of respite

a reprieve, indefinite furlough

naked to all and defenseless

my body is my holding cell

chains and bondage are unnecessary

hide-outs, rendezvous points

awards, grids and toasts

are for the armies and the lackluster

as for me, i just endure, exist

survival is the only option i have

perhaps it’s stockholm syndrome


patty hearst’s story is romantic

for a moment or year

maybe real, maybe fairytales

she burned with passion

but i was captured by me

and me alone

i have felt times of vibrant elation

i have been branded from birth

i cry rivers and scream in hysterics

my desire, my most coveted

is peace and love

beseeching, pleading, praying

my forehead forever on the ground

i am bleeding and it will never stop

there is nothing tantalizing in that




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