Song of the Betel Chewer

Distant songs; meanderings,
of birds and other beasts
free from grilled windows,
green capsules,
they sing plenty sweet songs,
for me...
While I gaze, into nothingness,
which draws out of me, the opium I call life.

Bright red lips, trickles of stale betel,
dripping, leaving it's mark
on clinical walls, that imprison me.

I pray they go with me.

Everyone else, wanders around
in empty hallways,
their shadow, their only friend,
they take their turn at living,
one stride of pain at a time.

Glazed eyes I see, glistening with tears albeit dry,
wasted burrows on her bosom and on his sucked in chest,
tethered, their wings clipped,
I wither along with them
and I near the journey of Sansara,
for release I crave, from my desolate world,
a last breath I need,
to bid adieu, to the empty hallway, my one and only friend.