/ Glass Box /



I am in a glass box

Or a cage

Or some terrarium

And, if I do the right tricks

Spin the right wheels, push the right buttons

Sometimes, they throw food in

If I’m really good

Offer some of that food through a little chute

In the side of the wall

And stop biting that spot that always itches

They throw more food in

And give me a blanket for my bed

But

If I’m bad

Make a mess, throw the furniture around

Or even just start standing the wrong way

If they get bored

They take away the bed

And don’t give me food

And throw lit matches in instead

Or sometimes they turn the heating off

And it gets so cold that my skin blisters

But after a while they stop

And I get food again

I don’t remember how I got here

I have no track of time

They control the day and the night

That, or the light on top of the glass box just cycles like that

I just know that I have been here long enough to watch the food rotting

And then I blink and I think

“That food has always been rotting

It has always been like this

There’s nothing outside of this

Quit being stupid

You’re too hungry to think”

I forget

I don’t remember much except that I forget what I remember

I can hear, though

I can hear footsteps, scurrying around me

I can’t perceive it visually but I can ascertain it

The presence of others

All around me

I’m just one in a sea of translucent glass boxes

Or maybe I’m just hearing things

I do that a lot

I forgot again



There’s a blind spot

Where they can’t see everything

I don’t eat anymore

It hurts but it doesn’t kill me

Nothing really kills me it seems

I realized that a week ago

Or was it a month ago?

A year?

I’ve been dumping half of my food into the chute

So I get more

And the other half I pile in the corner

Along with all the blankets, and all the toys, and all the furniture

When they’re looking

When the crashing around me stops

I do little tricks

And other little movements

And from this I get more food

That I keep piling

I can watch it rotting

Time feels faster now

A lot faster

My pile shrinks and it stinks like death in here

But I’m getting further

The pile’s getting taller

Even the rugs are molding now

I keep going

Because I know that

When the pile’s tall enough

I’m going to climb up it

And I’m going to leap through that stupid little hatch at the top of this glass box

And then

Once I’m through

I’m going to tear apart every single glass box that I can find





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