The Seclusion Room

Bob, Inside DID, Poetry

The Seclusion Room

I want food and glare at the
safety window in the door.

I pause before I rap.

I know that if I rap I’ll be hungry; my guts
will boil but someone will bring me food.

But if I rap my guts will boil and I might be
ignored.

I wonder if it’s worth the risk.

Self Portrait #10

The door is locked and I have 4 points

1 for each arm and 1 for each leg

I scratch my thigh as I

slide down

a mile wide

awning

and land quietly in a bin of wrist
tags.

Superman me swoops me up and
flies me away

we are weightless….

He says “You can have the fortress
of solitude. Everything is yours.”

I scratch my thigh and yawn.

RG (c) 2016

Source: The Seclusion Room

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