silent

I can't talk to you.

Not that there's nothing to say,
I simply can't form the words in my gullet,
they stick and swallow,
strangled before daylight's meet.

So how long can we stay like this?

Silent.

Until the words eat through my chest?
Burning through my flesh?

Will you "put up" with my silence?
Or will you walk away?

Loose my tongue
or lose me.

solitary

A really comfortable prison cell,

that's what I've built myself.

It's different than the usual grey walls,

barred windows,

prison food. 

It's the kind where I get to cook what I want,

use the bathroom when I want,

and even visit the outside.

But at the end of the day,

the door slams shut,

locked,

impenetrable social barriers, 

tyranny of distance.

The wardens of darkness patrol my mind.

I lie under my blanket,

staring at the cold, blank roof,

wondering how I can waste the day tomorrow

to distract me from these four walls,

this small space,

this tight trap.