nothing left to feel now
but the cold floor of this barren, bereaved cell
some light filters through the ceiling
mocking me like memories...

i am the shit that hides in shame
the most selfish hermit whose wisdom's turned to waste
resigned to lost time, and self imposed isolation
while smiling cynically: "there's safety in nothing."

i'd give anything to feel again
scribbling these words on the floor of what's left of my mind
charcoal drawings i pray will be found
and maybe someday, pieced together, explain it all

this wall...why must i break this wall?