the dream was of some northern gulag

guards who didn’t speak a word

tight small shitty cells

death scrawls on the walls

then an open space I could see the sky

plot an escape

though I never did

reckoning the odds were against me

making the border

& when I awoke

I firmly understood the significance

I am my own prisoner

guards too

there are things I will do

things I won’t

I stop my own adventures

before they even begin

the choices I make without thinking

no words or gestures necessary

to keep me prisoner

behind invisible bars

& there will be no escape