Minds Gristle

I sketched those four walls,

The cartilage tomb of thought

That trapped me with my terrors,

Expulsion ran the length of each,

But buried me amid

Their little chiming taunts,

I was no more now than before,

Dormant trauma connected

To uninhabited passions,

The husk I slice together

For vanished reason,

Self-possessed sinews

Fantasising at being the anthropoid,

Those walls mimic deviation

And I conform to sanctuary bound,

The lies to get us through another day…


Poem © Phen Weston 2015

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