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Captive
what shackles do we
put on
clinking like bracelets
what do we choose to
be captivated by
enraptured with
eyes, ears, hands, tongue, nose
in submission to sensation
of a symphony that stretches slowly into
the stickiness of
time skipping
what cells do we walk into
what prisons do we beg to be given entry to
what shackles have we forgotten about
Listen–
do you hear clinking?
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This poem is about the addictions that are quieter than others, unknown reliances, and heart-pressed secrets. It is about our hunger for sensation at all times; we've grown addicted to it.