Cage

 

 

 

Cage

 

Für Çağrı

 

Caught. In a cage.

From the beginning. It feels like.

Let’s have a Cigarette.

For a while.

It will last.

Let’s have a walk.

Let’s pace around.

I guess.

Let’s have a look. Outside.

If there is an outside.

Seems to be light. Sometimes.

Seems I hear voices.

But maybe. It’s a noise I made.

Cigarette. Pace.

Look. Around. Listen.

No. Cigarette. Pace. Ashes. Cough.

A paper. A pen.

A picture. A thought.

High. And full of joy.

Freedom. Love. Future?

Deep. More painfully.

Nerves. On fire.

Ashwa. Pace. Cigarette.

Even more thoughts.

Even more pictures.

Views from the inside

Views from an outside.

Paper. Pen.

Maybe I can write my way out.

Or calm down my nerves.

Cigarette. Pace.

Writing.

Wait. Look. Listen.

Seems to be a noise there!

But it’s not from the outside.

It’s here. It’s my pen. Scratching a paper.

While I hope. I hope.

A word can cut me out of here.

But. No.

Cage. Cigarette. Pace.

This place. Has a name.

Maybe.

You call it existence.

And another one: autism.

There’s only one exit. Now I know.

 But it’s not for good.

It has another name.

Let’s be silent about that.

Whatever, wherever. It lasts. Until now.

A thought. Breath.

A „That is that.“ A „Yes“.

Consent .

Caught I will be.

On the outside.

But I get free.

Inside.

A little bit Zen. You know?

A breath. Then..

Cigarette.

Pace.

Cigarette.

 

 

 (André van Markow)