Slender beams of moonlight enter
this darkened prison as I kneel,
always somber, always forlorn,
frozen here,
waiting.
Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
infiltrating my naked soul.
A reflection on a mirror's face.
I raise my head, now embracing
this oblivious mortality.
KinkyScreams ©2006
