collect calls

the things
you do
when you
are
cut off
from society
never amount
to
anything
when your
only
correspondace
is a letter
you write
the one
you’ve addressed
sealed and sent
and
to which
no one responds
the numbers
you dial
the digits
your fingers
are pressing
the collect calls
no ones accepting
don’t forget me
unless
you choose not to
return to sender
obstructs my view
eyes with anger
big fist bleeding
I’m like this
hard to remember
easy to miss
no collateral left
to put down
no bond to post
counting the bricks
on the wall
recalling
the things that meant
the most
as the long
sunless day
envelopes
all that
was
breaking the haze
sober for days
the erie
silece that
echos
corridors
cell blocks
and halls
inprisons
the lost looks
staring into
the emptiness
of unaswered
collect calls