Behind the bars I knelt
without one drop of fear,
of distance from acquaintances
of ritual-running spheres
for living, grown a recluse;
or how I dealt survival
away from living's destiny --
relations so colossal;
what lies in the crowded
I haven't still known;
what difference, still worshipping
those phantoms for votes;
what sparks in the cosmos
I haven't still seen;
what screams within loudness
could wake my esteem;
nothing really, never once;
had beauty blinded what's clear,
when emphasized on poetry
for art's aesthetic does sheer;
why is tearful the classic
why chase beauty dependence
who do ally the protest
with a senseless non-sentence;
but here behind bars
locked by keys of consciousness,
in my art-isolation
beats my heart so poison-less;
how'd I live this poetry
before their meaning wild gazes;
just how my innocence before
before my cleanest of pages.
