Biology or Prison

I look at you and notice
The cells we’ve made
(Or found)
That contain us

Alone. I look at my hands
And wonder if they’re strong enough
To break my cell
And everyone else’s too.
A hand that prides itself on softness.

When I close my eyes,
The cell remains.
When I breathe for myself,
The cell dissolves.
Let me catch my breath for a moment.
Let me feel that I am temporary.


Ingrown Roots

What is it that you despise within?
Privately in your solitude
You look for comfort in the ancient pages
Of the books made from the tree of life.
Found on your shelf
Of all shelves,
To help you
Of all selves.