The cage is small, but I can move around. All the windows greet me. All the walls keep their distance. Only time is talking, but I am not listening. I an sparking what I can and avoiding the chaos to the best of my ability, remembering what it was like to live without thinking of living at all.


i am writing you

a love song

it might take

a while

i cannot sing

or play an instrument

and the rhymes

won’t reconcile

i know there is

an art to this

but it threatens

to become a trade

writing you

a love song

that does not end

or fade