BOX

Four walls

with the absence of

four doors

and four windows.

Four choices

with the absence of

the will to choose.

Be asleep

stay awake

be fuckin’ bored

or be dead.

Either of those ways

you still have to be confined.

They let the knowledge stream

without letting you

question it.

They let the music be heard

without letting you

dance to its beat

or dare sing

to its melody.

They let the love radiate

without letting you

feel it

or savor it.

And after a while

you get used to the

four walls.

And you stop searching for

the four doors and windows.

And you stop searching for answers

though you still exemplify the

faculties of the existing.

You breathe, you eat

you seemingly smile;

You bite your tongue

you poke your eyes.

But pain becomes

a stranger

to the senses.

And it is at this time

you would realize

you are dead

and confined.

©Marjo Josue