It was to be expected -
freedom was after all
my well-worn tune -
but when it came,
it hurt nevertheless.

My fickle face
had been waiting
for so very long
to be slapped,
but when it came,
it stung me senseless.

Lie in your bed.
You made it.
You got what you wanted.
Wrists burn as the
stock-shackled fists of my liberty
drip with rotten eggs.

Racked by silent screams
I can do nothing
in the face of dreams
that refuse to be.


I dance along this glittering path
encrusted with exotic gems -
saline jeweldrops saturating
my gold-sandaled feet.