Polite Rebellion

I sit and stare at less than life
Staring up into the opacity
And beams to support this structure
Lighted lamp posts on the inside
Critters on the wall
Cells and cells
Columned windows to less than life
Images only
Not to smell or taste or to tough
Only to stare at
From three feet of space
The same as thousands of miles away
To wrinkle land
But still only to watch
Only to stare
Windows only highlight my prison
But I am caught in the dream of it all
Give hours to nothing
At least I can see you
Staring up into your opacity
Seeking ventilation like air you help me breath fake air
Give me a place to dream to
With beams to support this structure
Cue the violins
Sometimes I can hear
Like escaping footsteps through wrinkled land
When I sit, still
And stare at nothing