This Prison Is Sensory Deprivation

It is time to ask forgiveness
although a pardon would
equally do, I am in no position
to petition either of you – this
prison is sensory deprivation
at its meanest, a medium
absorbing the emotional
transactions I need to stay
this side of reality, tangling
the chemical signals of my
brain, cleaving a clinical
whiteness of nothing and
no-one and no-knowing.

If it it madness you want visited
upon me you have won, I am
mad for the scent of you, I am
insane for your touch, and if I
could hear you call me in that
sweet voice my ears would
burst with gladness. Caress me
once with your eyes so I can
see, caress me and leave me
free to drink the sight of your
leaving, let me taste the best
and the worst of you, give me
back my senses so I
can die in peace.
© I.D. Carswell 2006