The Prison

This prison I’ve created
  is totally self made
 
This world I’ve evaded,
  the fodder I trade
 
The reward is the punishment
  in not taking part
 
The scars not to heal,
  as I sit alone in the dark
 
The consensus, the polling,
  all truth on the run
 
The shadows of misery,
  — no day in the sun
 
The price of the membership,
  an eternity black
 
With dealers and charlatans
  all looking back
 
This prison I’ve created,
  by rejection self made
 
This world I’ve evaded,
  the fodder I trade
 
No verity in circumstance,
  the horse trails the cart
 
These bars I look out from,
  — a last lonely heart
 
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2015)