Just that Dantes, in Monte Christo, believed in the tunnel he with the priest was digging.
Like a boxer in the ring: a half-unconscious,
Sweated ceaseless around-and-around going thing.
Moves from square to square, premeditated mime:
Now, in an interrupted vision, life momentarily lost
To the lost beat of time.
Break the guilt of
Having to sleep alone;
Of being a fornicator with the
Past; to which you’re holding on.
Cement walls, damp, off white, without paper
Plain, staring back at your vacant eyes
Reflecting in its bareness the unaccompanied song
That you hum. That you hum in your hum
To carry through the moment that redefines
This lost unloved moment in you.
Look around you, walls; Look high above you:
Walls thin out facing thinning out walls.
There’s no room about where you lie,
Just a tunnel in search of daylight
Breaking out into the middle of the night.