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Jailhouse Perdition
The sun lingers away
from the sieves of your cellar
and every shadow shunned
the howls inside your cave
The echolalia of your heart
draped in surfeit agony
daunting the leonine waves
reaching your flimsy shores
You wrote forlorn telegrams
on your sooty walls
and kept on reminding yourself
how it feels to be abandoned
You confabulated with the ceiling,
traipsed and haggled with the floor,
but you never sought for the keys
to break your incarceration
Because you are the warden,
the prisoner, the gloom
that constitutes this debacle
of your twilit perdition.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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