Out in the Cold…
Flayed skin and broken bones.
Burned out wires and useless junk.
Gobbets of gibbering madness, set on a silver platter.
Dusty memories of life and love and power, gone.
That’s all I have to work with.
It wasn’t always this way.
I wasn’t always locked in this hall of stone.
I hear your laughter from in my cold cell.
I can see you don’t believe me, but ’tis true.
I have vague recollections of freedom and light.
Of unrestrained movement, limited only by my own desires.
Passion hot and unrelenting, hours of love and tenderness.
Hot breath on cold days and nerves that could feel other than pain.
Laughter and joy, spiced richly with thick bits of power and pride.
It all seems so far away now.
So vague and ethereal, drifting slowly away on a northerly breeze.
Locked behind panes of crystal and steel.
Mere images, slight remembrances of a life no longer mine.
Pieces of the man I once was and will never be again.
All because of a moment of chance.
A slight mis-step. A movement unrestrained.
That tiny bit more than my body would/could allow.
That split second that changed all of my gold to dross.
An unknowing choice I apparently once made…
And now I sit in my mausoleum,
My prison of ice and bone.
Guarded by the heat of my blood and strength of my will.
Imprisoned by that enemy of who I am/ was/ could have been.
I now count the days and dread the nights…