Once,
I was a sapling of a boy
luxuriating in the garden of adventure
watered by the inebriating she been tap;
my feet were youthful roots
which ran wild in search of self-satisfaction
and produced a branchful of knowledge.
Then,
I landed in a prison cell
where introspection gnawed at my heart
like a rat on a chunk of cheese.
For six months I lived with them
murderers, rapists and robbers
on our eyes hung shroud of misery,
our cheeks were pages on which was written the law
of defiance to all norms of authority;
we were comrades in crime and intrigue.
Now,
perpetually at prayer while constantly cursing,
I am a mouse of sublimation,
introvert, waiting or night's cover
when I can pillage the cupboard
of my rare bread, solitude
and feed my hunger to read,
to dream, and to write.
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