From Solitary Confinement (Solitary Confinement 1-7)

I am still in the process of counting

the bricks on the wall but the

tiny ridges are infinite and the

latter tally appears to be an

insurmountable feat.

Conversations echo at odd

hours and late nights merge into

early mornings. Faucets drip and

the steady cadence is therapeutic.

I stare into oblivion while draped

by a shroud as I contemplate the

divested times. Cold metal is

reminiscent of a heart, lost in

the midst of winter

to only be revived by a strangers warmth,

I AM STILL ALIVE!