Out of the darkness, blinded
By a gaze of white. Air
Meets lungs like fuel to fire.

Lame limbs mark
Infancy’s greatest struggle,
Yet the journey home appears

Blurred. Behind bars, gawping
Mouths move uncomfortably
Close, speaking white noise.

Coiled in arms, floating,
Observing: tongues drooling,
Tickling food

Everywhere. Even
The quiet beasts swaying
Are alive. Everything lives.

But how everyone
Changes! Nine ‘til five,
Sex on Sunday, drugs deprived.

The beasts are quiet still
But move little, apart
From timid shakes here,

There. Legs point to the sky
Like chairs stacked

Noises become a small
Whisper, everywhere.
Everything disappears.