what my mother didn't say....

it's nights like this where
i unleash the white tiger
to prowl around flirtatious western
palaces; inside where nugatory
dreams materialise where
promises of asylum to sanity portents
a penetration more grievious than
the anchoring of barb wires by
acts of violent paroxyms.
eyes, ears and nose in harmony
the moat, the cricket and zephyr in
passive yet active reconcilation
in this external sanctuary.
nowhere exists
i'm in the middle of nowhere
forward foreign
backward a greenhorn civvie
no leads no roads no hints to
the slight sanguineness.
i envy the birds flying free
in their Aves-like parlance in momentous
pendulosity; no physical impediment
no mental barricade
in the celestial sphere.
here i still scrutinize the walls
my soul drained in it's entirety.