Shackles

as I go through the motionsmy mind wandersto movement

it wasn’t something I paid muchattention to until I …didn’thave it

mobilitymotilityautonomymother. fucking. legs — that work.

every night I sleep and dream of beingwith people I know in the city that Icalled home andI begin to noticeblack trucks,people looking,lurking.

I want to put as much distancebetween me and my peopleas I can…they’re no longer safe with me.

I collapsebegin to drag myselfarmy crawl—anythingbut let them take me.

I blink back to reality.There are2 male escorts + 1 female = 3 cops in total

every pair of eyesin the building

looks upto stare

as they escortall 5’6” 115 lbsofmeback to cell block J.

chains reverberatewith every step thatItake

the soundtrack to my solitude:I’m “innocent until proven guilty.”

they forgot.

one officer sticks an electronic key into a slot inthe wall — the doorwhines and groansas if they dare to disturbthe tombit conceals

lest some poor soul escapecaptivity.

with a final growlthe door slowly rolls open..an officer refuses to meet my eyesas he removes the cuffs frommy wrists.

temporarily resigned to my discontentI walk into the blockwaiting

To hear the doorslide and lockinto placebehind melike a seamless sealing of myFATE.it doesn’t.

I can feel their eyeballspokingProdding. Imploring.dissecting melasering inlike triple beams on the back of my neck.

I turn.“What?” I snap.they’re looking at me like I’m some goddamn experiment,like they’re observing the supremely fucked in its natural fuckinghabitat.

One officer gestures toward me stepping forward, stammering“Uhm...do you...would you like me to, uh, I —Let me take those off for you.”

I look downat the shacklesthat still hold my ankles.I had walked back into my cage

Still boundin chains likethey were part of me.