Photo Challenge #62, Birds & Cages and Wordle #182



I pour the expletives censured in speech

Into the vital goblet housed within my breast

And though it spilleth over my parched throat

Croaks out only names and broken poems

Stripping the connections between

My meddlesome synapses

And my more wholesome bones.

Apocalyptic signs shore up my senses,

There is not conceived but despair.

How does one escape the sheets

When the morning has already fled?

I would ride the sun till its zenith

If I could fathom such a fascist heat.

There are cages that both open and close,

Cages that we enter at night

Under the guile of certain shadows.

There are cages in which birds still sing

And cages that in time give way to flight.

I thought I might live my whole life

Small and conspicuous like a fingerprint

Away a destination accessible only in hindsight

The walls around peristaltic and irascible

But forever does not apply to the human condition.

A threshold can be summoned from thin air

And then all it takes is a step or a stumble

To find oneself careening wildly into an alternate frame.