Black unpolished marble doors too heavy to swing open.
Locked inside dark moments that seek escape from Earthly prisons.
We are not free.
Black slick walls, wet from raging rivers seeping in.
They enter me, finding the lonely dark spaces.
Slipping through rocks and secrets.
I am not free.
Black words write themselves on onyx paper.
Words hiding between unruled lines.
Words killing authentic creation.
They are not free.
© zaji, 2016