Cage Of Echoes

He has not seen the sun
in weeks, the cameras peep
from their voyeuristic
glory-holes.
He woke up screaming from a dream or
nightmare; there is no difference
anymore and his bones are chewed 
like dog-toys. A mist
shades the room from daily rituals,
the smoke of thoughts hang dank
and the hiss of friendly strangers
claws the room
in search of hurt lest they be happy
and the world be independent
from their echoes.

◄ The Migration Of Shadows

An Accidental and Almost-Fatal Invocation ►

Comments

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kealan coady

Sun 17th Feb 2019 19:16

Thanks Keith ?

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keith jeffries

Sun 17th Feb 2019 16:55

Brilliant. More Kaelan! Thanks. Keith

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