the cell

We cover all of these
memories in gloss.
so when we recall the
past
they shimmer.
Surely and slowly
it fades leaving the
starkness that once was
a little dustier than
before.
Like a room seldom
Entered, webs
cover the rosy hued
dressers and frames
of your life.
Perhaps our dreams
contain a broom
and a feather topped handle
to rile up
what has settled
to give a simple smile
or a heartache.
Truth hurts,
and dust (our defense
mechanism)
is stronger than our will
to hold on.
Simple Simon
collecting water in a
sieve.
We all wear the dunce hat.
No camera to capture
But film to enslave.
Release me!
And give me the key
to free
my brothers and sisters.
Our chains
,self imposed or demanded,
have held far too long.
O,
When will they rust and Crack!
Come Rain!
Wash away my pain
And oxidize this
steel.
We just want to breathe
Life
Again.
It is so very cloying in our dust filled rooms.