Sometimes We Will

Prison, stolen Bible caressed my chest,


whilst other hearts slept in


the archaic stillness of sight or fight.


I can't tell you the number of times I've cried naked


raw and ravaged


in a poor spirit of the dayfilled night. 


Compartmentalized freedom:


No one can see me here in the shower,


in bed,


walking down the road,


in the will of the crowds surrounding me with my own




in my head


without guile.


no one is here to hear me because of unknown 






alone where respites