Metaphors snake
like vines around ankles
delivered from Eden
on gentle breezes
in discrete brown packages
they sing when released
and turn golden when polished
like skin
ripe and ready to bite
sinfully delicious
I’m not good at breaking
but the rain wants to reveal my secrets
and I can’t inhale deep enough
to purge them out
one petal at a time is plucked
like a dead chicken
being stripped for Sunday supper
plump and juicy
inside a nest of self
truth lies between nonsense
as answers circle
like vultures over a dead deer
time spills like water
splashes in our face
leaves a perspective of our difference
seemingly I crumble
little by little each day
caught in a cycle of deliberate destruction
the quiet of a mind
that fell off the deep end long ago
if only I could disappear
freedom stays tucked away
and plays tug of war with my soul
it snaps gravity from me
sits majestically on my shoulder and taunts
I want to rip the brown package open
and scream bloody murder
in poetic proportion
metaphorically speaking of course
but life rolls forward
behind the same four walls
that pool into years
becomes silent on the tip of tongue
and metaphors still snake
like vines around ankles
pending a poem
from the lips of solitary confinement
9/3/08
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