Time for the real life has come
But I ain't ready to be a student of the territory.
Not ready to read
nor write
not used to the chineseish expressions and
the murmur
the tightness and
the boredom
the limit and
the cage

awwwww say ay

I feel the touch of the icecold rigid metal bars
where is my melting pot to melt them down?
how
to break out from this prison of my mind?
phantom whispers free
but i see no light beam or stars
grip not a compass or a map
neither tools nor
any human beings are around
i heard faintly
the being says
turn the corner

This well that nurtured
now dried
sucks fluids of any type
my blood flows out of my body
via the yuckly plastic tubes
the elixir that sustains
now looks like mere colour paint

am almost dehydrated
i feebly mourn and twist my waist
uncomfortably i could have bitten my tongue

a beetle ready to die
about to reborn into a butterfly
not quite resurrection
head tilted looking forward to a transformation