Inside

Shackled and pinned down,
I’m tied up and my mouth’s gagged.
Or, that’s how I feel.

I’m bound to myself.
To my physical body.
Just living inside.

Do I even own
This body? That I call mine?
Or is it rented?

My own mobile home.
I take it everywhere, but
It’s not really me.

I bump it, bruise it.
I scrape it and I cut it.
I burn it, freeze it.

My mobile home is
A barrier. Nothing more.
Or, I guess that’s it.

Sometimes I think and
Its gums flap like doors on a
Movie monster house.

But I’m limited
To what it can say. You don’t
Hear me, but the house.

Again, I’m inside,
Shouting to be heard outside.
I’m gagged by my tongue.

This body was con-
Structed from nothing. One day
it will de-con-struct.

Maintaining a house
Does not make it permanent.
But I am stuck here.

Shackled and pinned down,
I’m tied up and my mouth’s gagged.
I want to get out.

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