Existent

Cell

Now, who is going to save you

from your hands and

who can exercise the 

demons that you implemented 

in your own head

and in mine. 

You are confined and yet you slip,

like those who rest slip

into unconsciousness, into my

dreams

but I do not sleep

I do not sleep.

I toss, I toss your

memories down foolish drains

that cough up blood- red 

deadly opiate- seed

never growing 

and I turn,

like you turn, in the grave

that you built for me.

I clasp my hands, small

and white

around my own throat

to perhaps strangle

the dirty air out,

that you forced into my lungs.