Listless

There are so many lists in my world:

I can list for you my suffering,
Or my survival.

I can list for you what I've eaten, drunk
And thrown up.

I can list for you what I've seen, what I've heard,
What I've been part of.

I can list my life, for you.

In the pages of my cages,
Lists are the smooth metal bars
That I bite.

I can list beauty, independant of myself;
I can list loves, breathing from myself;
I can list fears, feeding on myself.

These paper walls are written on
By my own shaking hand.

My name is Prisoner,
Tucked in my pocket.