Locked away in a cell, wallpapered with Star Wars posters and thick eggnog paint
A jail from which I could travel freely as commander of the keys, a perpetual host
in my own home. Frequent visitors come and go; friends seeking enjoyment,
peers of pleasure and mirth. Pleased, they stay for a spell, and oft remain past welcome
Guests of mine: eat and drink and laugh; annoyed when I tire of entertaining.
Companions with minute awareness of the ticking clocks of their placation limits
Personal relaxation is their boredom—never content with a company of one
Chef, tutor, housemaid; bro, teammate, weekend chaperon
Trapped among all too familiar strangers
Overrun with no place to seek refuge, or peace of mind
These festive giants wander back to apartments and beds more comforting then
recessed couches and stale basement air,
only to return again—freshened, and energized to restart the cycle
and interrupt their uninteresting lives,
confining me to a cage, built by walls but fortified with ignorant friendship
smothering the source of satisfaction
A hideaway turns to quicksand and solace becomes a distant dream
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