deepundergroundpoetry.com

familiar movements

Tuesday morning, the metal door
behind me slams shut and i climb
upstairs to the first floor,
thermos in hand as i mime
motions iíd done dawns before.

The feeding tube alarms chime
and the call lights coruscate
to signal the end of mealtime,
and our blind, schizophrenic inmate
screams that itís a crime

to have to wait for a
second cup of coffee; itís the law!
His face contorts to pique abated
when the nurse hurries down the hall
to hand him - i havenít the heart to tell him -
decaf.
gonezalo
Written by gonezalo
Published
Author's Note
incomplete; but lost motivation to finish it halfway through.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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