The silent, frozen landscape lies
just beyond these prison bars --
remote, dead, immutable, unholy,
under a half-wit moon.
And I -- bound and gagged
in bands of white cotton,
scarce breathing, without sleep
as the guard stalks the corridors
soundless, his keys muffled mercifully,
as many breathe in sleep all around.
I live by a sea of lost souls
in white metal cubicles,
a dormitory of the damned.
Every day the same, every night
a meme, marching lockstep
through misery, no choice but to
follow the pattern, the routine
of boredom and sameness, while
is life in all its withering.