January 09, 2016 These innumerable cells I am comprised of illuminate the truth: This body is my own trap. I am my own cage. I embody the cells of a prison. My very skin a traitor. Trapped. Trapped within my own dusty flesh and brittle bones. Trapped inside a society veiled in time.Trapped inside a world not home. I am both the prisoner and the jailer. Yet somehow, my only view is in the direction of looking out- to freedom, truth, justice, home. These locked lips and strict tongue sew themselves in knots, keeping me, the soul, from attempting to make escape. But alas, the conundrum: the jail, I must accept, is my only means of transcendence. The skin I am within is both tool and folly. Beyond imperfect. How is freedom to ever be achieved through such a flawed system? However am I to break free from this? Will not any other help? Give me some shred of hope? Believe in my effort, my journey to oneness?Remind me I am not alone? That you are trying to figure a way out - a way to - too? Please, oh dear soul, do not leave me out in the cold, desperately left to shrivel inside this machine I am forced to call home. Come back, oh please, let us both destroy the system from inside out-awaken ourselves,and once again become free.