I slid with brittle bones along a pitch black tunnel , 
twisting, rolling, writing in  a sea of  tar.
Vapors hot and sticky 
taunt my nose as
thoughts of orange red sunsets, silver streams,  and pale blue  moonlights catalyze this final push  to freedom.
Here I am, scrawny innocent, squeezed like toothpaste from a tube into a world of frozen panic.
Big Brother cameras snooping everywhere, CCTV stalkers.
Wolves in human form that tell us all to fly a kite.
Watchtowers, dormant daylight czars who censor skylines, giant concrete slabs that scar the heavens.
In my natural quest for freedom have I swooped one form of jailer for another?



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