By Chris Gallaher
Sitting within a cubical
Sectioned and numbered off
Observing the passage of the days
In my mind there aloft
I realise I am but a drop
In the ocean of it all
Words spill from my pen
Will someone hear my call
In the passage of time
Which spun like phantoms around me
Swirling ominously
Tight like a fist I can not see
A tornado of darkness
Which pounds all my universe
The circling of planets and mist
Trying to crawl away from this curse
A time piece to the spirits
For each hour I spend
Sunken faces around me
Hollowed eyes crying again
Mind horrors faced in solitude
In a noose called loneliness
I look to my wrists and tug the chains
Tied down forever to the forgottenless
Existing in a state of hesitation
My paranoia to express some hope
Walls rising around me
Surrounded by this moat
Sentenced to remain here forever
Warehoused in a hole
Cobwebs now dangling to the floor
I scream for the life stole
Dust settles upon me
As I pay for my crime
I feel the earth retake me
And I am covered with time _______………
…….________ somewhere between 1986-1990
Chris