His mind is imprisoned by a cage.
He is framed with sentences handed down by strangers.
He is alone while the other voices fill his head, even with the crouching crowd in his cell.
He argues for, and against, all conspiracies.
He is free to sit with selves; to hear who yells loudest.
He takes the liberty and waits to see who wins today’s war, for tomorrow it all begins again.
He paces frantically round the cube, wearing down its four corners; baring his heart, soul, spirit and body. He thinks he remembers he’d barely made a full circle.
He perspires learning from his troubled travels not so long ago and, while circling above, they spy the carcass of his joy and humour.