I am part of the gate.

cold hard rusted keeping the prisoner inside.

I am just an outline...

disease starting down so deep

eating its way out.

this is where it begins (secret captive sin)

in a single rod of the iron gate

rusted and no longer serving its purpose

I curve my posture, veil the reflections of comprehension
in eyes and breathe...

and watch them participate in the movement of the play

while I am welded into the gate to watch them marching onward...

I am just an outline...

travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward

travel onward through crevice of shallow space catch a breath crawl onward

searing in this I die, in the openness of wound...

I am part of the gate. I am cold, I am rusted.

I am the prisoner inside.