The Prisoner

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


Fantasy.

Submitted: April 30, 2018

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Submitted: April 30, 2018

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The Prisoner

 

He peers through the neon bars

Nude and petrified,

Listening to the dischords

Of the wind and traffic ocean.

He grabs his face

With sharpened claws,

And feels the colours.

He waits for release,

Imagining a bullet

Exploding a lightbulb,

Shot by an intruder in the night.

He dreams of eschatology,

Of the heavens parting,

As an assassin bursts through the clouds

With his finger on the trigger.

He dreams of the earth

Covered with water,

Then guttered by fire.

He imagines so many endings,

Heart attack, coma, electrocution,

An overdose on a suburban lawn,

A blue face on green grass

Forever dreaming of the remnants

Of super novae,

As the flesh dries

On a revolving clothes line.

He examines so many methods of death,

He feels his brown hairy body,

A distorted growth

Shrinking on a wooden chair.

 


© Copyright 2018 tom mcmullen. All rights reserved.

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