I cannot wrench another word

from the mansions of my skull,

Within a room so cranium white

I close my eyes to welcome dull.

 

As the fish against a hook

that twists and turns its own gut free,

we'll rip the pages from a book

so others truth we cannot see.

 

We spin and we avert our eyes,

at bitterness of being wrong

promoting our own freeing lies

we seal the cage where we belong.

 

My fingers grip and claw the bars,

my jailor wears a mask of me

he brings me oils to soothe my scars

that I might heal and be the key

 

to turn the lock that lets in light

that doesn't blind or darken thought,

but gives to all enlightened sight

so rarely found, infrequent sought.