When a notion,
the creative act animates,
wields powerful revelation,
a reflection of will,
aching in wistful want,
the small voice of a wounded child,
more an intention to reverberate,
ripple through others and move,
affect or make them,
The containment you imagine me is pure pleasure palladia,
mutual fantasy of possession and punishment,
our sado-satisfying masochistic me in it for your admiration,
a prize for you to paw.
We dream that cage together,
get off on it in our sleep,
its bars of steely glares and grim reproach
spaced wide enough for you to grope your grapey lust,
take what’s yours to take.
the space is so small,
no room to parade or pace,
just enough to set upon all fours and wait and watch,
captured in your gaze,
anticipating your designs.
A rectangle of caged space
inside a rectangle of shut in space
inside a locked staring searing eye is meta murder,
again and again.
You slay my spirit with suffocating enclosure,
arms wrapped around me in my sleep,
nowhere to avert the sarcophogal stare,
nailed to a phone pinging and ringing your intentions,
mind manacled to your roller-coaster moment and measurement.
The cave of your desire,
still closes out the bogey man of freedom,
all burden of the untied.
Like the neo-fascist caged desire,
bully-beaten youth grown cruel,
craving corrective counterblow,
bursting from their cells (non-cognitive) of scarred safety,
pummeling the impenetrable,
un-crumpled equanimous content,
pale to compare,
keeps out the unwanted.
Only in those other confines,
the losers at the starting gate
crawling into empty spaces
in the walls of ice-just,
inside homes of the muddled mind-less classes,
with Cerberus as their keeper,
ferryman to their burning holes,
here and there
in courtrooms and classrooms and barbed wired buses and wanton walls.
They are safe inside,
havens of co-caged meat,
their fists and teeth,
sinking in their terror,
despair and connection,
a merging of all the shit shared from drug-addled parents,
pimping lovers and duplicitous lawyers,
robed wardens and baton’d judges.
And one of them shouted at me,
walking the long hall of dungeoned malice
after the debacle
after an irreversible sentence to a life’s shackling stain,
a broken destiny,
“Why you cry?!!
Why you cry for?!!”
As if shouting,
commanding could make it so:
one human being sharing agony with another,
seeking consolation and empathy from parallel worlds
sealed off from one another by impenetrable soundless walls.
Your lips moved but blood splattered the walls of my unending walk
with utterances of the caged,
the animals you molest and shove and grab and spit on.
who just do your job like boot-and-bayonet-brave Nazis.