rituals of resistance
Perpetually losing home ground,
Never to regain ourselves fully,
Even when the cellblock inevitably unfurls.
Where have we gone?
The collective no-place of communal feeling;
Always yearned for, watered down, side-tracked, ironically reminisced and recurrently buried,
to no avail revered,
As a child dreams of friendly echoes only to be hit by silence.
Benediction as hoax,
Tricksters as karmic gurus,
Wisdom as a thorn in our side,
I scheme of leaving this sandcastle...
and go seek in chance an hour of mercy.
