I’ve been quarantined
in this 5 foot 3 inch chamber
sweating out years
banking on borrowed
time from divinity
but prophets speak in tongues
these riddles no one understands

having promises ricochet
off memories so old
they should be dead

I live in a time warp
cursed with the ability
To wander, yet run in place

so I claw
at the flesh
surrounding this soul
too perfect for its wrapping

just to get free

bleeding out
particles I don’t want or need
keeping this hate tucked
inside the cracks
of my stomach

waiting patiently
knees cupped to chin
for the body that never comes


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